A Butler's Duty
by AJCrane
Summary: A butler's duty is to his employer. And Alfred is no exception. A butler's duty has a whole new meaning when his employer and his ward are kidnapped and Alfred must figure out who is responsible. When he receives what looks like a ransom note, Alfred learns that a man from his past is responsible and if he doesn't comply with his demands, his charges will pay the ultimate price.
1. Prologue-Knight and Squire

A Butler's Duty

By AJ

Prologue – A Knight and Squire

A butler's duty is to his employer. He acts as his social secretary and at times his valet. He is in charge of the staff and keeps that staff busy so the Master of the house does not have to worry about trivial things. If he is the only member of the staff, such as Alfred Pennyworth, he is also the chauffer, chef, and nursemaid. Alfred Pennyworth though was a lot more. Right at that moment he was Agent Penn, trying to seek out . . . Let's look back and find out why a butler suddenly act as a secret agent. It happened one evening near the end of June. On the evening in question, Alfred Pennyworth was assisting his employer Bruce Wayne and his youthful ward, Dick Grayson in preparing for a night out.

"Alfred, where are my cufflinks?" Bruce Wayne asked.

"They are where you left them before, on top of your borough."

"Thanks. Could you check to see if Dick is ready?"

"Very good, Sir."

"Alfred, why do I have to attend?"

"Because you and Mater Wayne were requested. The car should be ready."

"I can't believe you're not going to drive us," Dick Grayson pouted.

"The invitation was specific. A car would be provided."

"I just wish you were going to be there."

"That is most flattering Master Richard, but I have a prior commitment."

"You going to take Dr. Leslie out on a date?"

"Really, Master Richard. I do not know where you get your ideas."

"Ready Dick?" Bruce came out of his room wearing his black tuxedo. The sapphire cufflinks that were his father's were now in place.

"Almost. I'm having trouble with this tie," Dick said as his hands fumbled with the bow tie around his neck. "Whoever invented the bow tie should be strangled with it."

"Here, let me help you," Bruce approached his ward and helped him straighten out his bow tie. With the tie fixed, Dick grabbed his suit jacket from the closet.

"Next time there's an awards event, let's stay home."

"You don't want to see your guardian receive the humanitarian of the year award?"

Dick shuffled his feet and put his hands in his pockets. "It's not that . . ."

"Oh, I get it. It's because there's no patrol," Bruce said as he lifted his ward's chin so their eyes met. "Dick had grown a few inches, but he was still a long ways from reaching his full height. "Tell you what. We'll patrol afterward."

"What if it goes really late?"

'It's a Saturday," Bruce reminded him.

"Oh yeah," Dick gave Bruce a wide grin. Knowing that they were going to patrol afterward made going to the awards event less painful.

"I still don't understand why they want me there," Dick exclaimed.

"Well, I want you there," Bruce said patting him on the shoulder.

"The car is here, Master Bruce."

"Thank you Alfred."

Dick and Bruce climbed into the back of the limo and settled into the seat. Dick waved back at Alfred as the limo pulled out of the driveway. Once out of sight of the house, the limo driver turned the car away from Gotham City.

"Driver, you made a wrong turn."

The driver didn't answer. Instead a glass panel raised between the front and rear seats.

"DRIVER!"

"Bruce, what's going on?"

Smoke started billowing out of the side vents where normally the heat or air conditioning would be blown.

"GAS!"

Both Bruce and Dick started coughing.

"Holy abduction!" Dick exclaimed.

"It 's . . . some . . . sort of . . . trap!"

"Alfred . . . he . . . doesn't know."

Both were soon overcome by the knock out gas. Bruce slumped back in his seat while Dick's head lay against his guardian's leg. The driver of the limo turned down another road leading to Gotham's shipyards. The driver headed to a ramp and drove the car right into the hull of a steam liner. Once other cars and cargo were loaded, the ramp was removed and the doors to the cargo hold were shut. Within moments the ship was pulling away from the dock and out into Gotham Harbor. It would soon be entering international waters. Alfred wasn't aware that his two charges were in trouble. He would soon find out and it would be up to Alfred to save them. For among a butler's duty was to not only make certain his employer was always seen in the best light, but protecting that employer from those who would take advantage of him was his main priority, a priority that Alfred had done for many years. For Alfred, he would be facing his greatest challenge, a man from his past bent on destroying everything Alfred holds dear.

Continues with Part 1 – Kidnapped

_A/N: I might be updating every couple of days on this story. I have a lot to write yet and I want to stay ahead of the game. So, please be patient as each part unfolds. It should be worth the wait._

_**I had to add this additional note! Please send well wishes however way you can to Adam West. If you will be at Ottawa Comiccon, please let Burt Ward know we are all thinking of Adam. Adam has a fractured vertebra in his back and will not be able to attend. This story is dedicated to him in hopes that he will soon be well.**  
_


	2. Part 1-Kidnapped

A Butler's Duty

By AJ

Part 1 – Kidnapped

Alfred was pacing back and forth. It was now three o'clock in the morning. Master Bruce Wayne and young Dick Grayson had not returned from the awards ceremony. He was beginning to worry. Master Bruce had promised his ward that they would go out on patrol when they returned home. The ceremony could not have lasted more than a few hours at best. What could have happened?

Alfred went down to the cave to listen to the police band. There were no reports regarding any vehicle matching the limo that Master Bruce and Master Richard had taken this evening. At least they weren't in any accidents. Even so, it had been at least nine hours since they left the house.

'I have it,' Alfred thought. Alfred moved back up the hidden stairs to Wayne Manor. He moved into the entryway and found what he was looking for. Resting on the entry table was the envelope and invitation to the awards ceremony. In his haste, Master Bruce had neglected to pick it up. Such an auspicious event required that the invitation be given at the door to ensure only those invited were attending. The invitation listed where and when the ceremony was taking place.

'I wonder . . .' Alfred thought. Alfred picked up the phone and dialed the Gotham Arms Hotel.

"Gotham Arms, my I help you?" the night desk clerk answered rather bored.

"This is Alfred Pennyworth. I need to speak with Mr. Bruce Wayne. He is attending an awards ceremony at your establishment."

"Awards ceremony?"

"Yes, for Humanitarian of the Year," Alfred added.

"I'm just the night clerk. I came on duty two hours ago. Let me check the calendar from yesterday's scheduled events."

Alfred waited as he was put on hold for a moment then the clerk came back on the line.

"There was no such event listed from yesterday. Are you sure it was here? Who told you there was an awards ceremony . . . Hello . . . Hello?"

On hearing that the hotel had no such event, Alfred hung up the phone. Deep worry appeared on Alfred's face. Who could have set up such an elaborate ruse to . . . He dare not say the word otherwise it would make it more real.

'Perhaps there may be hope after all. They may have decided to patrol right after and simply took their uniforms with them. I might be able to track them,' Alfred stated remembering all the various tracking devices that Bruce had in the cave. He knew Master Bruce and young Master Richard rarely left on personal matters without taking along precautions.

Alfred raced back to the bat cave. He immediately typed in a code. The blip appeared on the screen but . . . He looked toward the uniform vault. 'Oh no.' He raced toward the vault and opened it. In Batman's belt, he found the homing transmitter, as well as the one in his cowl beeping out their signals. On the one chance they didn't take precautions, something disastrous had happened.

'They did not take their uniforms nor any other tracking device. And the ceremony really was a ruse. They've been kidnapped!'

Alfred realized he could not go to Commissioner Gordon without someone getting wind of the news, but he knew what he had to do. It would throw Gotham City into a media circus, but was the only way. Luckily, Master Bruce had put a plan in place if ever there was a situation such as this.

Alfred picked up the house phone and dialed Police Headquarters.

"Get me Commissioner Gordon."

"I'm sorry Commissioner Gordon is not in. You'll have to call back in the morning."

"I must get ahold of him," Alfred said. "This is an emergency."

"I'm sorry . . . Commissioner Gordon has gone home . . ."

"Young lady," Alfred was beginning to get his dander up. "You are a police officer are you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"I work for Mr. Bruce Wayne, who is a close friend of Commissioner Gordon. I said this is an emergency . . ."

"Look, sir. I don't know who you are . . ."

"Mr. Wayne and his ward Richard Grayson have been kidnapped! Now get me Commissioner Gordon or I shall inform your superior and you shall be an ex-police officer."

"Right away, sir. Please hold."

The phone at Commissioner Gordon's home rang for at least ten minutes.

"Commissioner, this is Officer Morgan."

"I hope you have a very good reason for waking me up Officer."

"Uhm . . . There is a Mr. Pennyworth on the line . . ."

"Pennyworth?"

"He says he works for Mr. Wayne."

"Anything else?" What does Bruce want now? He usually waits with trivial things.

"He says that Wayne and his . . . ward? . . . were kidnapped."

"What? Put me through now!"

Within seconds Alfred was talking with Commissioner Gordon, telling how Bruce and Dick hadn't come home after what he thought was an award's banquet, but when he called the hotel, he found out there had been no banquet and the car that picked up his charges had been rented for that evening. "Sir, the car never arrived at the hotel because there was no awards ceremony."

"Let me get to my office. I'll summon Batman. He's the only one who might be able to help."

Alfred had to wait for 45 agonizing minutes before the hot line went off. Once it did, he plugged the phone into a special jack on the computer. Alfred typed in a code and within moments the program started. This program was used for emergencies if Bruce could not be there to answer or even to go to Commissioner Gordon's office. In this way, Batman could be on the case and Commissioner Gordon would take a back seat and wait. Once the program was completed the signal was disconnected. After that program stopped another started.

"Alfred, if you are seeing this, Dick and I are in trouble. You must use what resources you have to find us. As you know, Batman and Commissioner Gordon cannot help, but I am glad you used the emergency program so Gordon won't worry."

Alfred started to question, but stopped, realizing what he was listening to was a recording.

"You know what to do Alfred, to take arms against a sea of troubles."

He recognized the message that Bruce was trying to tell him. It would be up to him to discover who was responsible and to find a way to return them. Taking up arms wasn't new to Alfred, but it had been many years. His fight was now done behind the scenes. No one would ever know that Batman and Robin had a third partner, providing them with support in ways that some would shake their heads at. For Alfred was versed in many things, things that even Bruce was not fully aware of but suspected. Where he learned the skills that he had, Alfred never talked about his time before he came to Wayne Manor. Now it would seem he would have to put those old rusty skills to use. The question that formed in Alfred's mind as his eyes narrowed. Who kidnapped Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson and why?

Continues with Part 2 – In the Middle of Nowhere


	3. Part 2-Shanghaied

A Butler's Duty

By AJ

Part 2 – Shanghaied

Bruce Wayne was the first to come to. He noticed he was no longer in the car. Not only that Dick wasn't with him. He looked around the stateroom that he found himself in. There was a note on the table.

_I'm sure you wish to change. There is food in the dining hall. Everything will be explained afterward._

There wasn't much Bruce could do. His inner ear told him he was no longer on land. The stateroom that he found himself in was large, but there was no window to the outside. He checked the door and found it locked.

'I guess whoever owns this craft they want me to take a shower. Very well. I shall indulge them until I learn what is going on and where they've taken Dick.'

Bruce checked the closet and found there were clothes already there and in his size. Whomever the person was who kidnapped them was thorough. Bruce only hoped that once he was done cleaning himself up the door would be unlocked and he could finally get some answers once he headed to the dining hall.

'I just hope Dick is there so we can compare notes.'

/

Dick Grayson woke to the sound of someone shouting.

"Up and at'em boy!"

"What?"

"You heard me. UP! If you want to eat."

"Where . . . where . . . am I?" Dick asked.

"Where am I? You're on my ship. You should know by now. You're working for me. Now get your sorry butt off of that bunk!"

Dick moved as quickly as he could, but he was still a bit groggy from the knock out gas he had been given. He was still wearing his dress cloths.

CRACK!

"OW!" Dick cried out. "Hey, why'd you do that for?"

"When I say move, I mean move!" The man with the whip said. "Captain wants us to put on more steam. I need every back to do it."

Dick looked grudgingly at the man with the whip. He didn't know where he was until he suddenly listed toward his right. 'I'm really on a boat, but where's Bruce?'

Dick was grabbed by the collar and shoved forward. He found himself in a large boiler room where it was hotter than Bruce' sauna. There were at least three large gaping furnaces and several piles of black coal were scattered throughout the place. He could see several figures covered in soot trying to move the coal around closer to each of the furnaces while one or two people shoveled coal. In front of the one he was standing, he was the only person.

"Take that coal shovel and start putting your back into it. Captain wants us far from these waters as soon as possible."

With the way the man was talking it sure sounded like he was on some boat, and a large one at that. Dick shoveled coal for over an hour. His muscles started to ache and burn from the exercise. He had to switch positions a couple of times to make certain both sets of back and shoulder muscles got an even amount of strenuous work. Even so, he didn't like the situation he found himself in. He had to find a way out to search for Bruce.

The man with the whip kept him going for another two hours before he nearly collapsed. The man also nearly tore through his clothes leaving them in ribbons. Dick was aware that he must have had a few bloody welts. Just as exhaustion was setting in the dinner bell rang. Dick was aware he hadn't eaten since . . . he didn't know how long it had been or how long he had been on the ship. It could have been a few hours or it could have been a few days. It felt like an eternity. When he was about to follow the other crew for dinner, Dick was stopped in his tracks.

"Not you, you're going back to your bunk. Bread and water only."

The one thing that Dick did learn was how many people ran that boiler room. When he was returned to his room there was a loaf of bread and a pitcher of water. It was less than prisoner's food.

"Here," the man tossed him a pair of coveralls. "Get changed out of those party duds. You won't be goin' to too many of those where we're headed."

"Where are we heading?" Dick asked.

"That's none of your business."

"Just how many members of the crew are there?" Dick asked nonchalantly.

"I don't mind telling you since you're not goin' anywhere. There are 30. Twenty up top and ten down here. You better get changed out of them fancy duds like I said."

"I was brought here with my guardian, Bruce Wayne. Do you know where he is?"

"How old are yeah?"

"Thirteen," Dick said.

The man looked a little surprised at that. 'I thought this kid was older. He didn't act like some spoiled rich kid that needed a few lessons in humility. He worked pretty hard for a thirteen year old.' The man stared at Dick then asked. 'What's your name kid?"

"Dick Grayson."

"Tell you what. You work hard tomorrow and I'll ask around."

"Thanks."

Dick was left alone after that. His door was relocked. He sat on the bunk and eyed the pitcher of water and the loaf of bread. He thought about not eating, but his body required fuel, whether it was a steak dinner from Alfred or a simple meal of bread and water. Dick made his choice and poured himself a glass of water and broke off a chunk of bread. He wondered at that moment where Bruce was and if he was also eating just as simple a meal.

/

Bruce Wayne entered the dining hall and saw no one except for the staff that stood by a table laden with food. He moved toward the table and made his selection, a simple loaf of bread and a glass of water. He didn't feel like eating at the expense of his ward not being there. He needed to study his enemy, but he didn't know who that enemy was in order to do that. His body did require fuel, but when he was working on a case, sometimes his mind over rode his body's needs.

As he ate his meager meal, Bruce kept wondering about Dick and where he could be. If he got the opportunity Bruce needed to search the ship. He just had to be there. The two of them might even figure a way out of this mess.

"Your young friend is safe, for now."

"Who are you? Show your face." Bruce demanded.

"You are in no position to make demands and that would put me at a disadvantage."

"Why have you brought us here?"

"To teach someone a valuable lesson."

"What?" Bruce asked.

"Do you really want to know?"

Bruce changed his strategy. "Do I know the person?"

"Not as well as you think."

The guessing game the person was playing was getting tiresome.

"Please, have some more food. It has been prepared for you."

"No, thank you," Bruce said. "I'd prefer to see my ward. Where is he?"

"You'll see him. When I say you can."

"What kind of sick game are you playing?"

"Game? Yes, I suppose this is a game, but not for you. You and your young friend are the pieces, the pawns if you will. I hope to draw out a knight from her majesty's service. And if he doesn't arrive soon, well one of you should be sufficient to bring him forth. Unfortunately as you well know, sacrificing a pawn, distasteful as it seems may have to be done. No matter. It should be worth it to see the look on Alfred Pennyworth's face. It will be a message that no one escapes from me that easily."

Continues with Part 3 – Even Butlers Have a Past


	4. Part 3-Even Butlers Have a Past

_**A/N: We will be having our electrical lines that run into our house replaced. So, we will not have power on Friday and possibly on Saturday. Hopefully I will be able to post the next part for Saturday, but until then, here is the next part.**_

/

A Butler's Duty

By AJ

Part 3 – Even Butlers Have a Past

Alfred was beside himself. Someone at Police Headquarters leaked the news and he could guess whom it was that did.

'That dispatcher needs to be reassigned,' Alfred thought.

Alfred looked out his window to see a throng of reporters and photographers at the gates of Wayne Manor hoping to get a glimpse of him. He wasn't about to give them the satisfaction. He could not help but recall the throng of people who showed up at their doorstep when Master Bruce took Dick Grayson as his ward. After the first week being at the Manor, Dick had to go to an orphanage, and that made things far worse. Scandalous, erroneous headlines were printed in the tabloids that had Bruce nearly calling hos lawyers for slanderous remarks. And it wasn't a picnic when it came to Social Services as well. They only allowed Dick to stay with Bruce for a month. Dick had started his training, as Robin within a week after being at the Manor and the look on the boy's face was devastating when he had to leave what he thought was a new home. The social media had a field day. Dick didn't know that Bruce Wayne's home was not supposed to be permanent. It had been a nightmare for all of them. And when social services forcibly took Dick Grayson from the home while Bruce had been at Wayne Enterprises, there was nothing Alfred could do but watch and then inform Bruce what happened. In that short time Alfred saw a change come over his charge, a change for the better. Bruce fought for Dick over the next month, trying to get Dick returned to him, becoming Dick's permanent guardian when no other family members came forth to claim the orphaned circus boy.

'I had never seen Master Bruce cry in the years since he lost his parents. In the month when the courts were deciding Master Richard's fate, Master Bruce would not sleep in his own room. And when he thought he might lose Master Richard, I found Master Bruce weeping in front of his parents' portrait. Now I am facing the fact that I may lose both of them.'

The emotions threatened to overwhelm the butler. He could not allow them to define his situation. He needed to know who took Master Wayne and young Master Grayson, but that was unlikely to happen, not without help. And without there being a single clue . . .

'Wait, the limo was rented. Perhaps I can start with that. And I remember the license plate because it was unusual.'

Alfred went down into the bat cave and accessed the car rental lists. There were at least ten car rental places, but only three had limos that they rented. Alfred was able to access the databases easily. None of them were protected from having their data stolen. Out of courtesy for accessing the files Alfred set up firewalls for each of the rental places that used limos. He would go and add that change to the others when time allowed him to later. While doing that, he searched on the license plate and tried to discover who rented that particular limo.

'Odd . . . the limo was reported stolen when it wasn't returned to the rental place, but who rented it?'

Alfred checked the name. The name was non-descript, which meant that it could be an alias, but the signature, that might be matched with a known felon. Alfred decided to check the signature against any known felon within the database on hand.

"The search will take two hours," the computer announced.

There wasn't much Alfred could do until the results came through. Alfred went back to the Manor and made some tea. Tea for him was like coffee to Bruce. Tea also had a calming affect. Alfred knew he should at least eat something, but like Bruce or Dick, he couldn't bring himself to eat something until he had answers.

While Alfred was contemplating his next move, a knock came at the front door. Alfred frowned. He hoped none of the rabble had gotten through the gate. He would run them off the property. He was glad that Mrs. Harriet Cooper wasn't home right now. She was on a three-week exertion tour of Europe. Though she was a strong woman, the thought of Master Bruce or her nephew Dick being in the hands of some nefarious criminal would send her to her bed for certain. Hopefully, Masters Bruce and Dick would be returned before Mrs. Cooper returned home.

Alfred opened the door to see Commissioner Gordon standing on the doorstep. The gates to Wayne Manor were still locked.

"Commissioner, I take it you took the old logging road behind the Wayne property?"

"You surmised correctly . . . um Alfred," Commissioner Gordon said. "I didn't think you wanted those reporters coming up your drive."

"You are correct," Alfred responded. "Have you brought news?"

"Well, Batman is on the case, but we haven't heard from him. I'm getting worried."

"Well, we British always try to carry on. I shall make us some tea."

"I almost forgot. There is one thing I did bring with me."

"What is that Commissioner?" Alfred asked.

"This was delivered to my office an hour ago. The odd thing is that it is addressed to you."

"Me?"

"It could be a ransom note."

"Open it for me Commissioner. I'm rather nervous as to what it could be."

Commissioner Gordon opened the envelope. Inside was a folded sheet of paper. Inside the folded sheet were two photographs; one of Bruce and the other of Dick, both appeared to be asleep. The photos had very little detail, at least for what the average person could observe.

"I can't make heads or tails of this," Commissioner Gordon stated. "What kind of ransom note is this?"

Alfred took the letter and knew what it meant. He hadn't seen the code since his days in her Majesty's Service. There was something familiar with the way the symbols were placed.

"May I have a copy of this?"

"I was hoping to give this to Batman, but since I cannot get ahold of him, I don't know how we're going to figure out what this means."

"Well Commissioner," Alfred stated. "This is obviously some kind of code."

"A code? Of course I should have realized that. But without knowing that, figuring out the code isn't going to be easy."

Alfred pursed his lips and decided to share one aspect of his life that very few knew.

"I might give it ago."

"You, Alfred?" Commissioner Gordon questioned.

"I used to be in her Majesty's Service. I've picked up a few things in my day, including learning to break codes. This is an old code from my time in the service. I might be able to break it. It would be my way of helping Batman."

"But how can we let Batman know?"

"You could call him and I am certain he would reply."

"Perhaps you are right."

"Why don't you let me see what I can do with the code. I'll give you the solution then you can call Batman from your office and let him know."

"Very well. How will you accomplish it?"

"I have some old code books no longer used, sort of a souvenir from my days in the service. It should only take me a few minutes. I'll provide some refreshment while you wait."

Commissioner Gordon agreed and Alfred got to work providing a small repast while he deciphered the coded message. It didn't take long. What he read, however, left him feeling cold inside.

'Oh no . . . How will I explain this to Commissioner Gordon?"

Continues with Part 4


	5. Part 4-Pawns For a Former Operative

A Butler's Duty

By AJ

Part 4 – Pawns for A Former Operative

Bruce's eyes narrowed as the voice droned on about his revenge on Alfred. Bruce was trying to pinpoint where the voice was coming from. He noticed there was a balcony above the dining area. The voice appeared to be coming from there. Bruce got up slowly as if he was heading back toward the buffet table.

"Come any closer and your little friend dies."

"Where is he?" Bruce's voice became a hard edge.

"He's on the ship, that's all you need to know," the man stated. "You have most of this ship at your disposal. You can live the way you are accustomed to."

"What about my son?"

"Your son? You said he was your ward. He is no more your son than I am your father. He'll be living his life the way he is accustomed to."

'Which means he's somewhere below deck,' Bruce thought. "He is more than my ward," Bruce confessed. "He is my son and he should be with me."

"Oh no, Mr. Wayne. Your . . . son . . . stays where he is. It will guarantee that you and he will behave. And if you don't, he'll be the one that suffers."

Bruce's lips narrowed to a hard line. He didn't dare attack the man, even if he could pinpoint the man's location. Dick's life was threatened. He had to find him another way.

And below deck, Dick was thinking the same thing. He knew Bruce was somewhere on the ship. He just needed to locate him. If they could just get together, they might be able to figure a way out of their predicament. When Dick did have a chance to explore, he found several doors and hatches locked. There had to be one that was open. They couldn't all be locked. So far, he had been told there were 10 people who ran the boiler room and 30 people above, but it felt like there should have been a lot more. What Dick didn't know was the number of decks he would have to traverse. For now, he was being treated like one of the crew with one exception. He was being singled out for abuse and rough treatment.

"Dickhead, you're late!"

"Sorry . . . I got lost . . . And my name's just Dick." Dick noticed the foreman was a different person.

"I'll call you what I want, shorty."

"What happened to the other guy?" Dick questioned, ignoring the older man's comment. He dealt with bullies before.

"He's been demoted," the guy gave Dick a grin that reminded him of a certain clown back in Gotham; only the clown was creepier. "Get to work."

Dick grabbed the shovel and started in on the coal. It wasn't long before his arms were getting tired and the heat from the furnace was starting to make him sweat. He needed water. He spotted a bucket with a ladle and walked over to it.

CRACK!

"OWWWWW!" Dick cried out as he felt the sting of the whip.

"Where do you think you're going short stuff?"

"To get some water," Dick said quietly.

"None for you," the new foreman stated. "Back to work."

"Slave driver," Dick muttered under his breath. "Owwwww!" Once again Dick was struck with the whip. It was beginning to get him mad, but there was nothing he could do. If he had his Robin gear, he'd show this guy what he could do with that whip.

"Defiance is it? I'll teach you!"

The man struck Dick another ten times leaving bloody welts. Dick collapsed, not daring to move. Silent tears tracked down his face. Dick did his best to keep from crying out nearly biting through his lower lip, but the pain became unbearable.

"Bruce . . . Dad . . ."

"Calling for your daddy, kid? What's his name Brucie? He's dead. And you'll never see him again."

"NO! It's . . . it's not true!" Dick cried, "You're lying!"

"It's true kid, get over it! You're mine and you'll never see your comfy home again!"

Hot angry tears continued to stream down the 13-year-old's face. It couldn't be true. Bruce couldn't be dead. 'He wouldn't leave me like this. Despair filled Dick at the prospect of being alone once again and no one knowing where he was or even if he was alive.

'Alfred. I've got to contact Alfred.'

Dick was suddenly lifted up by his hair and thrown across the room. He almost didn't twist enough to keep his body from slamming up against the coalbin. His body had become weaker than expected, but he wasn't about to let the brute get a second chance. As the man drew closer, Dick leapt up, this time kicking out, striking the man across the chin. The man dropped like a stone and Dick raced from the boiler room. He had to find a way to the upper decks. He had to find the radio room. He could at least contact Alfred and to learn whether Bruce was still alive, and if he wasn't to avenge his death.

At the same time that Dick was being beaten and told that Bruce was dead, the billionaire was also trying to think of a way to contact Alfred. And that meant finding the radio room or the control center that ran the ship. His thoughts also weren't that far off on wondering what was happening to his ward, Dick Grayson.

'If I have nearly the full run of this ship, let's just see how far.'

After waiting for an hour to be certain their host was gone, Bruce set out in the opposite direction.

'Let's just hope I can find an open passageway that can lead me to the lower decks. If something happens to Dick I'll make sure our host pays.'

The man watched the monitor.

"What does Alfred Pennyworth see in these two? Perhaps I should let them find each other, at least for a short time. There is no place for them to go. And once we get to where we are going, there won't be any place for them to hide either. They will be the bait and when Alfred Pennyworth arrives, nothing will stop me from taking my revenge."

Continues with Part 5


	6. Part 5-Once an Operative

A Butler's Duty

By AJ

Part 5 – Once an Operative Always an Operative

"What does the code say?" Commissioner Gordon asked.

"You are correct, Commissioner," Alfred stated. "It is a ransom note demanding that the city pay $10,000,000 million dollars for Bruce Wayne and Richard Grayson. The kidnappers are demanding that I deliver the ransom."

"You Alfred?"

"Who else can deliver it?" Alfred replied. "There is more. If Batman and his boy companion are anywhere near the site, the kidnappers will kill the hostages."

"Does the kidnapper indicate where the ransom must be delivered?"

"No," Alfred lied. "Another note will be delivered giving instructions."

"And the kidnappers are warning that if Batman and Robin become involved, Bruce and Dick will be killed."

"I'm afraid so, Commissioner."

"Keep me informed when you hear from the kidnappers. I'll inform Batman when I return to my office. There is no way the city can put together that much money."

"Perhaps the city does not need to," Alfred stated. "Mr. Wayne keeps a separate fund for just such an emergency."

"You mean . . ." Commissioner Gordon didn't want to voice what he was thinking, but Alfred did it for him.

"If you remember last year when Master Richard was kidnapped . . ."

"Yes, I can see why Bruce would do something like that. If Bruce is gone, who has access to those funds?"

"Mr. Wayne has given me full access to any funds that may be required for any reason."

"Then I will have you take the reins on this one Alfred," Commissioner Gordon stated. "It is against my better judgment. I would prefer there be some kind of police presence, but with Bruce and Dick's lives at stake . . .We cannot even risk Batman in this, but I feel he must be told. He may very well agree with you, that you are the obvious choice, but unless I hear from him, I don't want you getting involved."

"I am already involved Commissioner," Alfred stated. "The kidnappers want me to do this, but I don't see how without further instructions. Perhaps they shall contact me later tonight." It was all he could do to keep Commissioner Gordon in the dark. In truth the code that Alfred deciphered gave a location and that if Alfred wanted to see his charges alive again, he had to deliver himself into the abductor's hands.

"I should get back to my office," Commissioner Gordon stated. "If I hear from the kidnappers again, I shall contact you."

"Perhaps Batman will get wind of this and contact you about the matter. And if I should hear from the kidnappers . . ."

"I'm certain we will find Bruce and Dick and have them returned safely."

"I do hope so, Commissioner. I do hope so."

Once Commissioner Gordon had left Alfred head back o the cave. He set up a program to go off at a certain time. 'Batman' will contact Commissioner Gordon in relaying a message that Alfred Pennyworth had received further instructions and will be assisting him in recovering Mr. Wayne and his ward. It would be apparent that the police should be kept on standby. Then there will be the clincher. The program would address the fact that Mr. Wayne and his ward had been taken out of the country. That will make it imperative that the police can do nothing until they hear from Batman.

As soon as the program was complete, Alfred Pennyworth began the long arduous process of preparing what he needed. Alfred went into the uniform vault and went to the special lockers set aside for him. He changed out of his butler's uniform and into a uniform that Master Bruce had made especially for him. Over the years, Bruce had figured out that Alfred was more than just a butler, charged with taking care of the Wayne household. He suspected Alfred of being with some secret service and at least trained in using weapons of all types, but his preferred weapon Bruce made certain that Alfred had what he needed if ever there was a day when Alfred was called back into service.

As Alfred put on the uniform, it didn't have any symbols on it, but it contained special pockets to hold weapons that Alfred was most familiar with and continued to train in their use. It was Alfred who trained Master Bruce in the art of knife throwing, whether it was a minute blade that could be concealed in the finger of a glove or a meat cleaver. All types of knives had their purpose. By the time Bruce was 12 years old, he was nearly as proficient as Alfred. The butler continued his training and then teaching his younger charge in the art of knife throwing. What made it even more interesting was teaching Dick to apply his acrobatic skills as well. Alfred didn't have the bulk and the build of Bruce Wayne. He was lean, with a quickness of step that belied his age. He developed the ability of slight of hand to draw his opponent's attention elsewhere. And because Alfred was observant in every detail, his aim was true where he never missed a mark.

Alfred Pennyworth strapped on the special gantlets that wrapped around his forearms and around the black high boots. The knives that they carried were made of the strongest metal and were sharp enough to split a hair. They were cut from the same metal that Batman's throwing bats were constructed.

Alfred pulled out a special cowl. It contained a radio transmitter. The final touch was a utility belt similar to Batman's, but was the same color as Alfred's vest that he wore under his jacket. The utility belt was slimmer, but still held a variety of tools to aid the butler in helping Batman to fight crime. Once suited up, Alfred resumed wearing his regular clothing. He folded the cowl and placed it in a pocket.

'Now to play a little charade for the press.'

Just as Alfred finished dressing, the bat computer chimed letting him know that his search was completed. He checked the inquiry and his eyes became wide.

'Nigel Goodman?' He hadn't heard that name since before he came to live at the Manor. Nigel had been considered one Mother's best and finest, until he decided to turn rogue. It had been up to Alfred Pennyworth to get the man to see the error of his ways. It wasn't enough and Nigel Goodman vowed to get even then disappeared without a trace. Now, it would appear that Nigel Goodman was behind Masters Bruce and Richard's kidnapping.

Another chime came from the computer, alerting Alfred that there was another inquiry that had been discovered. Alfred typed in the command and a video appeared on the screen. It was the limo. It had been spotted at the docks boarding a ship. Alfred tried to switch the view to get a name on the passenger vessel, but no such luck. It would seem that his charges had been taken out of the country after all, just as the code had suggested. They were back at square one . . . almost. Alfred at least had a name. Forgetting about the press, Alfred moved to the garage area of the bat cave. He pulled a tarp off of a small silver Bently. It was a complete duplicate of the car used in the old James Bond movies. The car had been shipped to him soon after joining the Wayne household. Checking the engine and the fuel tank, as well as other items within the car, Alfred revved up the engine and took off. Agent Penn was on the case and he would not stop until Master Bruce and Master Richard were brought safely home.

Continues with Part 6


	7. Part 6-Gathering Allies and Remembering

A Butler's Duty

By AJ

Part 6 – Gathering Allies and Remembering

Alfred filed a flight plan and had the attendants ready the larger jet for transport. The jet was large enough to transport a couple of vehicles as well as other cargo. The jet also had a small medical facility just in case. One particular vehicle was Alfred's pride and joy as well as one that he knew that Masters Bruce and Richard might require. There were other times when vehicles had to be transported, such as for a Wayne Foundation Charity Conference on the west coast. The conference lasted five days and Bruce was required to be there. Dick came along to assist with hospitality and making certain that conference attendees had what they required. During that time, Bruce asked his fellow Justice League members to keep an eye on Gotham City while he was gone. Even Batman needed a vacation once in a while. Even so, that still didn't stop Batman and Robin from showing up if there was trouble.

This time, however, the transportation that Alfred would be taking along would be quite different. He would be visiting an old friend to get answers as well as assistance to the coordinates that were provided in the code. There was conventional transportation, but in this case, he needed to get to where he was going undetected. He also brought along two small capsules that Bruce was trying to perfect. If those didn't work, there was always the alternative, but that meant carrying a backpack that might slow him down or get lost in the situation they may find themselves in. Either way, Alfred felt that his charges were gong to need these particular accoutraments, and he didn't want to disappoint them.

Alfred sped out of the cave and to the airport. He had one more call to make. He just hoped Bruce would approve. Gotham needed to be protected and that meant calling in a favor.

"Dial Star City, Barry Allen, secure line," Alfred announced after pressing a button on the dash. The button had a telephone symbol on it.

On the third ring, Barry Allen answered. "Alfred? What's up?"

"I need assistance."

"Is Bruce all right?"

Alfred didn't answer at first. "He is . . . somewhat indisposed. I am the one asking for the moment." Normally, Alfred would not be so informal with someone else, but Bruce and Barry had known each other for four years and in that time Alfred learned that he and Barry both had a love for Detective stories. Even though the line was secure, Alfred went into some detail and what he required.

"And you need someone to watch Gotham City," Allen replied. "Wally and I would be happy to help."

Alfred did caution Barry Allen, "Just remember Gotham is Batman's city and Commissioner Gordon will be expecting Batman and Robin."

"How long do you think you'll need help?"

"Hopefully, no more than a week," Alfred replied.

"I wish I can help you search for Bruce and Dick," Allen stated.

"I appreciate your offer, Mr. Allen, but I must do this myself," Alfred stated with conviction.

"You have a former associate that's involved," Barry said. It was a statement rather than a question.

"Very perceptive," Mr. Allen," the butler replied.

"I can understand and respect that. When will you need us?"

"Tonight."

"We'll be there," Allen replied. "Good luck and if you find you do need help, you know how to reach me."

"Thank you Mr. Allen. That is most comforting."

Alfred cut the communication once he arrived at the airport and stored his vehicle on board. He moved to the cockpit, did his preflight check and within the hour he was air born. Once he was at cruising altitude, he put the plane on autopilot and set an alarm to let him know when he would be approaching London's Heathrow Airport. He did not want to be late in answering the tower once they detected his approach.

As soon as everything was set and he was certain that nothing would go wrong or was amiss, Alfred Pennyworth settled into one of the luxury seats, leaned back and closed his eyes. He hadn't had a decent nights sleep since the disappearance of his precious charges. He knew if he was going to be at his sharpest, this was the time to take whatever rest he could get. It may be a few more days before he would get any rest like this again.

His deepest fear was that he would fail both his charges. He made some serious mistakes in the past with young Master Bruce, taking care of his physical wellbeing, while the emotional side was a little more difficult for him. He loved Master Bruce like a son, but showing it wasn't something he had been allowed to do, partially due to the CPS and also Bruce's Uncle George. The man was very strict and didn't want a grieving child in his presence. He believed boys should not cry and during that time, Alfred was prevented from seeing the boy. It was only after learning that Bruce had run away that he took custody of the child, finding a provision in Thomas Wayne's will that named Alfred Bruce's guardian if his Uncle proved to be unfit. So, Alfred not only took care of the Wayne estate for the son of Thomas Wayne, but for the boy he grew to love as his own son.

Bruce's Uncle George wasn't too happy and tried to contest the will, trying to say that blood was thicker than water, but the papers were in legal order and Bruce's Uncle George had to concede to the wishes written in the will. Bruce still continued to keep in touch; he was family after all. He could not say the same for his other younger charge.

Dick Grayson really didn't have any other family. The woman known as Harriet Cooper was a friend of his deceased mother, a friend that she knew before her marriage to John Grayson. Mary called her Aunt Harriet and when she got the chance to introduce her son to her family, they didn't want to have anything to do with the son of John Grayson, the man who took their daughter away from her posh life. Aunt Harriet was the only one who encouraged Mary Rochester to follow her dream and become a performer. The Rochesters of New Hampton, Connecticut would never see their daughter again, and would never know that their grandson ever existed. They each died within a year of losing their precious daughter.

As for Aunt Harriet, she never forgot the smiling bouncing boy and looked forward to seeing him perform with his parents every year, until that fateful day when the circus arrived and there was no Flying Graysons. Alfred recalled the story.

"Oh Alfred, I should be forever grateful to learn that Mary's boy wasn't killed. I was told that the whole family fell."

"Who told you that?"

"I don't rightly remember. But then I saw on the news that Mr. Wayne of Gotham City had taken a ward, when I saw his photograph and heard his story, I couldn't believe it. He has his mother's smile, don't you know."

"Really, I was not aware of that."

Aunt Harriet told him upon visiting the gravesite, she found only John and Mary's names listed. It was two years until she realized that the ward of Bruce Wayne was indeed her nephew, Richard Grayson.

And during those two years, Master Richard had such a profound affect on Master Bruce that you would have sworn that they were truly father and son, only separated and reunited once more.

'And I must reunite this family,' Alfred thought. 'It will destroy all of us if I don't.'

Continues with Part 7


	8. Part 7-If Ever Two Shall Meet

Hi everyone. I figured I better put something up. It's been a while. My surgery went well, and I've been recovering at home as well as trying to get in a certain number of walks each day. Poison Ivy though seems to have come out, and I don't know where that came from. Probably like shingles, it stays in your system until something happens to bring it out, especially if you are highly allergic like me. Oh well. I hope you are enjoying Alfred's little jaunt.

/

A Butler's Duty

By AJ

Part 7– If Ever Two Shall Meet

Dick Grayson searched throughout the deck, trying to find a hatch, any hatch that might be open. In the far corner of the stern of the ship, far from his quarters, Dick spied a small hatch-like door that he hadn't noticed before. He thought he explored every inch, but Dick realized he hadn't gone this far before. Dick pulled on the hatch and he nearly fell back when it opened. He was expecting it to be locked. With a feeling of relief Dick darted through the hatch, closing it behind him and locking it to be certain that no one followed him. The hatch led to a narrow metal stairwell that climbed upward, and only upward. It had ended with the deck he was on. Dick took to the metal stairs relieved to be finally having some good luck for a change. He climbed to the next deck only to find that the hatch on that level was locked. The metal stairs continued to climb upwards. On the next deck, Dick found the hatch to be open. He cautiously checked the corridor of the ship to see if anyone was there. It was strangely empty.

Checking one more time, Dick took the chance and head down the corridor. He started checking at each door for sounds, but found none.

"How long is this ship?' he thought. How could a ship this big be devoid of people? He'd been on a passenger ship before while traveling with the circus. They were always filled with all kinds of people, both passengers and crew. This ship felt like a ghost ship.

He hadn't thought about that in a long time. Before, when his parents' deaths were more recent, the pain of that loss was still strong. Even pleasant memories would bring on a pain so deep that it could not be described. During those times, he sought out Bruce to help him ease that pain since he also felt that kind of loss. The pain, though still present, wasn't as fresh. Time had eased it somewhat. 'Bruce was right about that. The pain never goes away, not totally, but the sting of it . . .'

Thinking about the pain of that loss reminded him of the physical pain his body had endured. He was sweating profusely and not just from excursion. The sweat running down his back was causing to welts to more than just sting. It felt like his skin was on fire. With little food and very little water, Dick was beginning to weaken. His mind though would not let him give up. He had to find Bruce.

'He's got to be here. That man was lying. He's not dead! He can't be dead!'

Dick searched for another way to the upper decks. He found another stairwell, this time situated near the center. He climbed up the stairwell, nearly collapsing once he reached the top. He heard voices approaching and he quickly found a door that was open that lead into what looked like sleeping accommodations, but much nicer than the bunk he found himself on when he first came to from the knock out gas. He shut the door without locking it so as not to draw attention. The room actually had natural light coming in and Dick discovered a small porthole leading to the outside. Even though he would have preferred to learn what the voices were saying Dick was drawn to the source of light. Dick moved over to the porthole and looked out onto nothing but ocean. While below deck he imagined they were still in Gotham Harbor, but remembering what the first foreman had said that the captain wanted more steam to get them into international waters, Dick's heart sank. There was no way someone could find them in the middle of the ocean. Despair filled him as he also realized what the second foreman said, that Bruce was dead. He didn't want to believe it, but if it were true, his body may have been tossed somewhere out in that vast sea. And he would never see his guardian . . . his second father alive again.

Dick let his legs collapse under him and he fell to the floor. Deep racking sobs escaped his lips. He didn't care if anyone heard him. He saw no way of escape. His body had been weakened from lack of food and water. And without his guardian . . . no his father to guide him, Dick felt lost and alone. He didn't know how long he lay there or how long he had been crying. Exhaustion and a raging fever set in and he fell into a deep sleep. He wasn't aware when strong gentle arms picked him up and carried him away.

/

Bruce walked around the ship, searching not only for a way to the lower decks, but in the staterooms and berths where a thirteen-year-old boy might be kept, even being forced to either live in less than luxury accommodations or forced to serve among the crew. He found only one open area down to a lower deck, but that was another smaller dining area with a pool. He found an area that could be a ballroom or a place for entertaining passengers. He passed what looked like a duty shop. He found a movie theater where there was a movie playing, but the seats were unoccupied.

'He probably expects me to entertain myself like any rich person would, forgetting about the boy. Like hell! I'm not letting Dick fend for himself. I will find him if it takes all night.'

Bruce continued to search, this time going through every stateroom and berth just as he had on the upper deck. When he found the infirmary, he went through the medical supplies just in case he needed them. Searching thoroughly through the ship enabled him to know exactly where everything was and where everything was not. So far he was able to map out in his head exactly where everything was, including where the control room was likely to be located. He didn't need to see it to know where it was in relation to everything else. Once you eliminated everything else, what remained was the truth. Right now, Bruce was eliminating every possible place where Dick Grayson could be held and so far his instincts were being proven true. Dick Grayson was somewhere below, perhaps on the next deck or even down in the hold or engine room. He just needed to find a way to get to him.

Bruce found a way down to another deck, this one had more staterooms, but smaller. If he had to open each door, he would, but something about this particular corridor drew him. Five doors down on the right, he could tell there was a door that wasn't completely closed. It could be just a steward changing the sheets, but why would there be a steward in what was technically an empty room? Most of the staff kept hidden from view and there were no other passengers. A ship this size had to have at least a crew of 100 to serve the passengers, and this ship looked like it could serve at least twice if not thrice that number of passengers.

As Bruce drew closer, he noticed a small hand print on the frame of the door. The print was too small to be the hand of an adult. Dick was still small for his age. Bruce knelt down to examine it. The handprint appeared to be made of coal dust. He silently turned the nob and found the door unlocked. The room was smaller and not as lavish as the stateroom that he found himself in after waking from the knock out gas. He spied a small figure lying face down on he floor. He moved forward and discovered with joy and relief it was his wayward son. The boy appeared to be asleep.

"DICK!" Bruce was alarmed to see the welts on Dick's back. As he reached to pick him up, he could feel the heat coming off Dick's body. 'He's burning up! I've got to get him to the infirmary, take care of his back and see if I can find something to bring his fever down.'

Bruce carried Dick to the deck above where he found the infirmary. He placed the teen on an exam table positioning Dick so he was on his side. Bruce placed a blanket over the lower half of the teen's body wrapping the blanket around Dick's legs so he wouldn't roll off the table. Searching through the medical supplies, he found painkillers as well as ointments and bandages. Before placing any ointment on, Bruce carefully cleaned the wounds, noting that a few were infected and would have to be irrigated and the infection drawn out so they wouldn't scar. It could mean placing the teen in a very hot bath and carefully bathing his back. Bruce spotted a thermometer and carefully placing it in Dick's mouth, he was able to check his temperature.

'103.6. We've got to get your temperature down, chum. And that back of yours needs tending to as well. You've got to come out of this so I can take care of the guy who did this to you.'

Grabbing what medical supplies he needed, from bandages to ointments, to painkillers and placing everything into a bag, Bruce wrapped Dick up in a blanket and carried him back to his stateroom along with the supplies.

'You're going to need a change of clothes as well,' Bruce thought. 'I'll have to see if I can hunt something down for you. I did see a clothing shop not far from here. This cruise liner must have been stolen right out from under some cruise company's nose. Haven't explored the rest of this ship. I better take care of you first.'

As soon as Bruce arrived back at his stateroom, he recognized the room because of its location in proximity to the dining hall. He opened the door and placed Dick on the large bed. Moving to the bath he filled the tub with hot water. With Dick's fever the water would probably feel a little cooler, but still warm. He grabbed a carton of Epson salts and added some to the water. It would help to clean Dick's wounds and to draw out the infection. Once the tub was ready, he started to strip down his son to carry him to the tub.

The phone by his bedside rang. He thought about refusing to answer, but that would only antagonize their abductor.

"Yeah," Bruce growled, giving the person the barest of acknowledgement.

"You found your . . . son. Good. Just remember, he can just as easily be taken away from you again. Co-operate, and this will all be over very soon. Just as soon as I get Pennyworth."

"You bastard. You had my son tortured!"

"Disciplined. On a ship this size one must have order. Don't you agree? You have your son. I didn't promise he wouldn't be unharmed, but I'll do more than that if you don't do as you are told. One hostage is just as good as two."

Bruce's face paled. The line went dead after that. He turned toward Dick and vowed no one would touch his son ever again.

Continues with Part 8


	9. Part 8- Agent Penn

_Sorry this is taking long to post. Each part at this stage has to be perfectly crafted. And for a time during my recovery process, my energy would be up and down. It's more up than down as I get further from the surgery. This will come to a head soon. And I hope you have been enjoying Alfred's adventure in rescuing those he loves._

/

A Butler's Duty

By AJ

Part 8 - Agent Penn

Alfred arrived in London under six hours. While in flight he contacted an old friend still working at MI6 and arranged to meet that person during four o'clock tea. In the mean time, he looked over the code one more time and the co-ordinates that he had been given.

Coordinates 10°55'54N 65°18'29W

The coordinates were for a small island off the coast of South America. There were three islands he was familiar with, having visited them in the course of his training. The information on the island was more than 30 years old. What was known was that it had both desert and lush green jungle, unusual for an island that size. The island was roughly 58 square miles and off the coast of Venezuela. It was called La Tortuga Island. The island had a large sea turtle population at one time. There was an old fort used to defend the waters from pirates, but the fort was pretty much a ruin. The island was believed to be uninhabited, but the information WAS over 30 years old and that could have changed.

'Why would Nigel Goodman insist that I come to this place?' Alfred thought. 'And why me? I have not been an agent for many years. There must be more here than I am seeing.'

Alfred needed to know more about Nigel Goodman and why he would do what he did, kidnap Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson.

Alfred arrived at the designated location, sat down and ordered a pot of tea. He opened the London Times and started to read.

"May I join you?" Someone said.

Alfred looked up to see a familiar face and waved his hand toward the seat across from him.

"Do you supposed the clouds will part today?"

"Hopefully, we shall see the sun before it departs," Alfred responded. Alfred lowered his newspaper to his lap slipping something inside between the pages then placed it on the edge of table between them. "Shall I be Mother?" Alfred questioned when the tea arrived along with a few finger sandwiches.

The other gestured and Alfred poured the tea with his usual grace.

"Sugar?"

"None for me."

Alfred dropped in two lumps an indication of his predicament.

His companion picked up his cup and took a sip than before putting it down, he picked up the slip of paper that had been resting underneath, something prearranged by the butler earlier before sitting down.

"Our old friend I take it?"

"It would seem. He has requested my presence," Alfred stated.

"Not for a tea party, I take it?"

"He has already required to unwilling guests," Alfred stated through clenched teeth. "I do not want this party getting out of hand."

"Are you certain about the two guests?"

Alfred patted his hand on the newspaper as a stranger passed by their table. "You'll find an interesting story on page 11." They used this ploy before, handing over vital information while being observed. The other man turned to the suggested page, keeping the paper low on his lap so no one would spy what was on the page if someone was watching.

"Let me freshen your cup. I am certain your tea has grown cold," Alfred stood and moved beside the man pouring him a fresh cup and leaning in he stated in the man's ear, "My present employer and his son. I must get them back at all cost."

"That's much better thank you. And a most enlightening story," the man stated as he brought the cup to his lips and Alfred sat once more, "You'll have every revenue at your disposal. Mr. Wayne is a lucky man." The man looked at his watch. "My word, look at the time. It was nice sharing your tea. Same time tomorrow?"

"Of course," Alfred stated. "This time near the King's Hideaway?"

"Very good. See you then."

The 'stranger' was the first to leave, leaving Alfred's newspaper behind. Alfred in turn picked up the newspaper and went back to the hotel he was staying. It was best that he found another place just in case and he knew just where to go. It was a good thing he packed a few extra items, ones he was going to need when he meets up with his friend the next day.

When Alfred opened his hotel room, he opened the newspaper that had been left behind. It wasn't the same one as he remembered. He opened the newspaper and found a manila envelope. The two images of Bruce and Dick were gone. Alfred opened the envelope and found a list of names and a CD.

'Looks like I will have to start assembling my team. Hope I remember how.'

/

Bruce moved to his son's side and brushed his hand along his fevered cheek.

"I'm sorry Dick, but I'm going to have to move us from this room," Bruce stated. "I'll find us a safe place." He doubted whether there was one, but if he moved them every few hours, it might keep his adversary guessing. Bruce took a small sheet of paper, barely a sliver and slipped it between the door's frame near the hinges. He then left to find another space, away from where they were currently. Then he remembered the level below where he found Dick. The room was smaller and there was only one bed. It would have to do, but at least for the moment they could feel like they were in control.

Bruce went to the clothing shop and grabbed several items that would fit Dick. At least he would have a change of clothes. He left them in the new room then returned to his own stateroom. Before going in he checked to see if the door had been disturbed. It hadn't. He could breathe a sigh of relief for now.

'Apparently our 'host' is allowing us to stay together for now. I won't let him take Dick from me . . . I'll see to that.'

Bruce removed the slip of paper then entered the stateroom. He placed the bags that contained everything he collected from the infirmary on one arm and carried him from the room down to the lower level. He moved him back into the room that he found him in and shut the door. The room had a porthole at least, which gave them light from outside and fresh air. It might even give them a means to send a message from passing ships. All it would require was a flashlight. He would have to be very careful. He did not know where they were heading and for all he knew, their abductor would probably stay away from the main shipping lines. Even so, they would eventually cross paths with some kind of ship and if he could use his knowledge of Morse code, perhaps he might be able to get a message through to someone.

For now, Dick needed his help and this time, he was going to take the time to help his son get well. Bruce went into the bathroom and realized this room didn't have a bathtub. He would have to strip and stand in the shower with his son in order to bathe his back. Bruce would have to set his clothes aside and maybe retrieve some clean ones later. For now, Dick needed him. Bruce turned on the shower making sure it was the right temperature. He stripped down then stripped his son the rest of the way, removing his bloody clothing. He then cradled Dick in his arms making sure Dick's head rested on his shoulder so his back could be exposed. He supported his son under his buttocks so the full force of the water could reach his back. It would be awkward, but the infection needed to be cleansed from the welts if they were going to heal properly without scarring.

As the water hit Dick's back he suddenly arched and moaned. Bruce gripped his son tighter so he would not slip.

"Easy, I've got you," Bruce said gently. He slowly took the washcloth and ran the water down Dick's back cleaning the wounds until they didn't look so angry. Bruce also gave Dick's body a complete once over, washing the sweat away. From being in the water, Bruce could sense that Dick's temperature had lowered, not so it was close to normal, but at least it wasn't dangerously high. As Bruce finished washing Dick's bruised and battered body, he felt his son stir in his arms.

Dick's eyes fluttered open and he became aware that he was not only naked, but he was being held by someone else who's chest was also bare and they were standing in a shower. He almost panicked, and started to struggle, but the person held him in a tight grip.

'No . . ."

"Easy, Dick. It's me," Bruce soothed his son's sudden fear.

Dick lifted his head and his eyes became wide as he recognized whom it was that held him.

"Bruce?" Dick questioned, confused. 'It can't be. They said he was dead.'

"Hey Chum," Bruce turned his face toward his son giving him a slight smile. "Feeling better?"

"It really is you." Dick grabbed onto Bruce around his neck, squeezing him like he did when he was small.

"Easy there," Bruce said. "You've got quite a grip. Do you think you can stand on your own and I can turn off the shower and grab us a couple of towels?"

"Sure," Dick said though he felt dizzy and the moment Bruce put him down, Dick leaned against the wall while Bruce turned off the shower and grabbed a towel. He gave one to Dick and one for himself. Wrapping it around his waist, he helped Dick dry off and moved him back toward the bed.

"I brought you some clean clothes. Before you put on a shirt, I want to take care of your back. You have an infection. That's why you have a fever. The faster we take care of that the better. I also have some medicine."

Dick was quiet during Bruce's diatribe.

"Are you all right?" Bruce brushed his hand along Dick's cheek and suddenly the boy grabbed him again, this time letting out a relieved sob.

"They told me you were dead," he cried. "I didn't want to believe them . . . I . . . I tried to find you . . . They put me in the boiler room . . . had me shoveling coal . . . and . . . and . . ." Through his tears Dick explained what had happened, how the first foreman told him he would find out where Bruce was and then discovering the man had disappeared and had been replaced by someone else. "He was so cruel Bruce . . . He wouldn't even let me get any water."

"Are you thirsty?"

"Very," Dick replied.

Well, I'll get you some water and then you should rest."

"Bruce . . . where are we?"

"Good question, chum," Bruce replied, but he didn't have any answers to give.

"Let's get you better first. Then we'll figure out the answer to that question."

Dick nodded and his eyes became heavy. Bruce gave Dick some water along with a fever reducer and an antibiotic that he found in the infirmary. It will help to fight the infection and hopefully kick start Dick's recovery. Within moments, Dick was asleep again. With his son asleep, Bruce took the time to get his clothes from the old room. Once he returned, Bruce shifted Dick closer to the wall and lay down beside him with Dick positioned behind him. He kept his eyes on the door guarding his son. He would stay up all night if he had to. Soon sleep was dragging his eyelids downward. Bruce turned and wrapped his arms around his son. Even in sleep, nothing was going to come between them. He would be sure of that.

Continues with Part 9


	10. Part 9-Taking Care of Those We Love

A Butler's Duty

By AJ

Part 9 Taking Care of Those You Love

Dick Grayson's fever reached its peak then broke some time during the night. Bruce was aware of it since he was holding onto his son. He could feel hi son's body shake with chills then go still as his temperature climbed once more. Bruce forced a fever reducer down his son's throat, coaxing him with water to wash it down. Within a couple of hours the medication did its work, and his son was bathed in sweat. Bruce got up from the bed and retrieved a dry shirt once he retrieved a damp towel, wiping the sweat from the teen's body, being careful not to irritate the welts on his back. Being able to see them in daylight, they weren't as red and irritated as before. Bathing them in the shower helped to draw out the infection. The antibiotic will do the rest.

Dick stirred as Bruce administered to his son. Dick's eyes opened and he was watching Bruce move about the room gathering items and placing them where they had easy access.

'I thought I was dreaming. It really was Bruce holding me . . . taking care of me.'

Bruce turned to see Dick was watching him. He came over to the bed, knelt down and brushed a hand through his still damp hair. "Hey, Chum, how you feeling?"

"Tired, but a little hungry."

"I'll see about getting us some food," Bruce thought. 'If our 'host' will allow it. He probably knows by now we've switched rooms.'

"Bruce, what happened?" Dick asked. "I mean, who's done this?"

Bruce pursed his lips and debated on whether to keep some of the truth back, but it wouldn't be fair to Dick. He suffered at the hands of someone he didn't know, they both have in a way. At least as crime fighters, they knew who their enemies were, sometimes on a daily basis. The man, however, had done his homework and Bruce was wishing he had access to the bat computer to learn just whom it was they were dealing with. "I don't know who's doing this," Bruce started. "I do know he wants Alfred."

"Alfred, why?"

"What do you know of Alfred's past?" Bruce asked.

"Alfred's told me stories. He told me that he worked for MI6 for a short time, but I . . . I'm afraid I didn't believe them," Dick said sheepishly. "He just didn't seem like the type . . . "

"Dick, where did you think he learned all that he knows?" Bruce chided though not harshly. Dick was a naive 13-year-old, and it was time that he learned a few more things, this time about their third silent member of the team.

"Alfred, before he came back to Wayne Manor did a lot of things to increase his knowledge," Bruce started out.

"I know his training as a medic . . ." Dick said. "But the other stuff . . ."

"Dick, Alfred is more than he seems. The man that abducted us is from his past . . . even I might not be fully aware of what all Alfred has done in his life. I remember when I was a boy, pretending as all boys do with some of their toys, at one point I thought about becoming a spy, having read a lot of Ian Flemming's books. Alfred mentioned that being a spy wasn't as glamorous as Flemming made them out to be."

"Holy James Bond," Dick's eyes became wide. "Do you mean to tell me that Alfred really . . ."

"Looks like it. For now, we need to get you feeling better. I'm going to need your help in finding the radio room. I know it's somewhere in the center of the ship, but getting to it may take a little diversion and some finesse."

The phone rang at that moment. Dick froze while Bruce went over to answer it.

"Yeah."

"Just to let you know, there is no place on this ship that you can go that I won't know about. Remember my warning."

The line was cut and Bruce hung up the phone.

"Bruce?" Dick's brow furrowed after seeing his guardian's face. "Are you all right?"

Bruce couldn't divulge about the threat to Dick's life. It was just too horrible a thought. It was why he held onto Dick last night. The fear that Dick would be taken from him in the middle of the night if he were to loosen his grip invaded his dreams as a nightmare where Bruce watched Dick being tossed overboard, thrown to a group of circling sharks. Bruce clutched onto Dick so tightly, he feared he might have cracked one of Dick's ribs. He examined Dick quickly and only found some additional bruising along with what he already suffered. Bruce felt bad about the addition to Dick's injuries, but they couldn't be helped. They would deal with them when they had a chance.

"Bruce, tell me what's going on?"

"Our 'host' threatened . . ." Bruce turned his back, not wanting Dick to see the anguish and the helplessness he was feeling at that moment. He knew Dick would be able to read it in his face.

"I'll go see if I can find us something to eat," Bruce said, changing the subject. "Lock the door. You know my signal."

Dick followed Bruce to the door though a little unsteady on his feet, puzzled why Bruce would cut himself off in mid sentence, but he did as Bruce instructed, locking the door to wait for his return. Something was wrong. He never heard such fear in Bruce's voice before, despite him trying to hide it. Looking toward the porthole, Dick made his way to the back wall and opened the small round window. He let in the fresh air feeling the breeze coming off the water. It was a warm breeze and the sun was bright and blinding, and yet there was something about the position of the ship that intrigued him. Maybe it was the position of the waves or maybe it was the fact that what shadow the ship was casting didn't appear quite right in his mind. He wasn't sure what time of day it was and that made it harder to figure out. Bruce had been teaching him how to tell time from the position of the sun and how shadows were cast on the ground. Maybe it was because they were on a ship and moving . . . That's it. They were moving in relation to the land, the sun, and that's why the shadows were falling the way they were. The sun was also . . . Where was the sun? It usually rose in the eastern sky, but that was usually early between 6 and 7 am, but it felt later than that. If he could figure out where the sun was in relation to where that shadow was, he might be able to discover what direction they were heading.

Bruce's private knock came and Dick headed toward the door only nearly falling when his knees buckled. He barely made it to the door to open it. Bruce had a cart of food. He pushed it into the room as Dick opened the door a little wider. As Dick closed the door, he couldn't keep from sliding to the floor.

"Dick?"

"I . . . I . . . don't think I should have gotten out of bed," Dick let his body slip to the floor. "Ohhhh, somebody stop the room from moving."

Bruce chuckled at Dick's choice of words. "That's a little hard to do when you're on a ship."

"Oh . . . yeah . . . sorry," Dick replied sheepishly realizing the pun he just made.

The food cart forgotten, Bruce moved over to Dick and carefully lifted him into his arms, trying to be careful of his back. He checked his temperature and realized Dick hadn't had a fever reducer since last night and also an antibiotic. "We better get some medication in you and then some food. I brought some soup for you as well as some bread. We need to get your strength up."

Dick allowed Bruce to place him back in bed then to give him some soup on a tray with some bread. Beside the bowl were the medications that Bruce insisted Dick take before eating.

"I think you should rest more for today. By tomorrow, you should feel even better."

"Bruce, could you tell me where the sun is?"

"The sun? It's overhead why?"

"Would you say it's close to eleven or noon or one?"

Bruce realized what Dick was asking. "It's toward noon."

'I was right. We're heading southward,' Dick thought.

"Did you discover something when I was gone?"

"I think I know where we're heading," Dick answered with a cheeky grin.

"Well, tell me youngster, before I confine you to this bed for two days," Bruce grinned with a twinkle in his eye. He couldn't help feel a little pride over what his son had discovered.

"I think we're heading to the Caribbean."

"The Islands? I wonder which one."

"It can't be any of the populated ones," Dick surmised. "We'd be seeing more ships."

"You might be right," Bruce conceded, "What made you think about where we were?"

"I was in here yesterday, trying to hide and I looked out the porthole. At first I saw nothing but dark water until I saw there was an edge of brighter water. I remembered that I must have been looking at a shadow and it was early morning. And when I saw it today, the shadow was different."

Bruce nodded his head, 'Very good deduction,' Bruce thought "So what do you think our next move should be?"

"Find a way to contact Alfred," Dick replied.

Bruce chuckled. They were on the same wavelength. "Let's get down to strategizing. I have a feeling we won't have much time. And Alfred may end up needing our help."

Continues with Part 10


	11. Part 10-History Lesson

A Butler's Duty

By AJ

Part 10-History Lesson

"You understand what you must do," Alfred confirmed.

"Yes, we are to get you to that island without detection," Agent Boswell stated.

Alfred Pennyworth knew Agent Percy Boswell in his younger days. They served together in her Majesty's Royal Army for three years, each with distinction, and often beyond the call of duty. It earned both of them opportunities to serve with MI6. Alfred served for six years when he received the call with regard to his father, Jarvis Pennyworth. He was 26 then and in his prime. Percy Boswell remained with MI6 and became a trainer for new recruits, only taking an occasional mission that suited him. And when Agent Penn called him out of the blue requesting his services, Boswell could not resist working with his former friend and fellow agent.

"Excuse me, but who are we rescuing?" a young man asked.

"Weren't you informed?" Alfred narrowed his eyes and his face became a stony mask. "What is your name young, Sir."

"Billings, Agent Robert Billings."

"He is a member of my transportation crew," Boswell stated.

Alfred nodded. The transport crew didn't formally need to know everything, but the former operative felt that telling them might make the rescue operation go more smoothly. "I am rescuing my employer and his son. You are part of the team to get me there. If I fail, it will be up to the rest of the team to take Agent Nigel Goodman to face justice."

"Your employer and his son?" Billings continued to question. "Who is he, some rich American or is that just a rumor?" the young man scoffed.

"May I ask where you acquired your information?" Alfred asked.

"That's on a need to know bases," Billings stated.

Rather than argue with the youth about his security clearance, which was very high despite the fact that he had not been in the field for many years, Agent Boswell saw to that, Alfred said with a straight face, "As a matter of fact, yes, and no it is not a rumor."

"You're joking."

"I never joke," though that was a lie. Alfred had a dry sense of humor that he used only around his charges, but he wasn't going to let this upstart know about that.

"Who is he, Bruce Wayne?" Billings chided.

"Yes."

The young man was left speechless. Agent Percy Boswell came up to Alfred and placed himself between Alfred and Agent Billings.

"Do not concern yourself with this whelp. He will learn soon enough who is in charge."

"And who is this old guy?" Billings complained. "And why are we following his orders?"

"He is Agent Penn," Boswell turned to the younger man.

"Agent Penn? THEE Agent Penn? Are you certain?" the young man's eyes grew wide. "The man who actually went behind enemy lines, memorized plans for a secret attack, and crossed back over without being detected? I've read his reports and exploits. They became required reading at the agency. Why did he leave?"

"I had another duty to perform . . . a far more important duty," Alfred responded, hearing the conversation.

"Being employed by Mr. Wayne? I don't get it."

"Agent Penn has his reasons," Boswell stated. "Now enough personal questions. There will be enough time once we are underway."

"How will we be traveling to this island?" Agent Penn questioned. He left the arrangements up to Agent Boswell simply because he was still an active agent and would know how to get what he needed. Alfred had been out of the loop for some time, but that did not mean he let his skills go to waste. Working for Bruce Wayne alias the Batman had its own challenges and rewards. One perk, Bruce rarely required him to go out in the field, but when he did, he had a very good reason for doing so, and most often Alfred's skills enabled Batman to succeed in less time than if Batman had been working alone, and that included Master Robin's help as well.

"I had hoped to travel by air, but that is out of the question. Word has it that the island has some fire power."

"The island is supposed to be deserted," Alfred stated.

"The information that is out on the net has deliberately been keeping people in the dark and only those with certain clearances can access information. Have you forgotten?"

"It has been a long time, and my clearance must have lapsed," Alfred stated, "But I haven't forgotten."

"Then lets see what you remember."

Alfred had to smirk at his old friend. They played this game before, once a year. In fact, Alfred had taught it to Master Bruce and Bruce at the moment was teaching Master Richard. One had to look for the one thing that seemed out of place in the map or within the context of the description, a word out of place, misspelled, or even a simple thing as highlighting specific words to create a phrase that created a password that would open the encrypted file.

Nigel Goodman was also familiar with the code. It was also the method he used when he turned rogue. Alfred remembered Nigel Goodman had become disgruntled by the system. He may have been their top agent, but the agency was requiring more accountability when civilians became involved. It left them vulnerable to attack from outside. Nigel Goodman was one to use civilians to get the job done and unfortunately the civilians would either end up dead or injured as a result. Alfred Pennyworth's rating was just below Nigel Goodman's only because he took more care to be certain his facts were correct and that he avoided as many casualties as possible when it came to having to enlist a civilian's aid. He worked it where that civilian never knew he was even an agent.

"You're no OO," Nigel stated to Agent Penn one time when the agency required they work together on a very difficult case.

"I don't kill to get my man. Besides our mission is to get information, not take out the enemy," Agent Penn stated. "I don't need to . . ."

". . . And what if someone you loved was taken from you, would you kill them?"

"I swore to do my duty," Alfred replied. "And if my duty was to protect my family and if it required that I kill . . . Even then I would not. The man responsible must face the consequences of his actions. How can he do that if he were dead?"

"You will never be a top agent with that kind of attitude."

"Be careful Yertle that you do not fall to the bottom," Alfred jested.

Little did Nigel realize that Agent Penn's words would be prophetic. Nigel Goodman in his haste allowed a civilian family to be killed, leaving a small child behind. He missed his target and the man got away with murder. The eyes of that child would haunt Agent Penn for the rest of his life. And he vowed that no other family should suffer as that child had. For Agent Penn he was forced to turn Nigel Goodman over for reprimand and demotion. He succeeded in taking down MI6's greatest agent, all without firing a shot. A few years later, another young family suffered the same fate, as if taunting him. The circumstances were very similar, except the thief got away, and Alfred was left to take care of the boy who was left behind. Pennyworth turned his back on the agency after turning Nigel Goodman in to help raise a young boy who would become Gotham's greatest protector, using some of the methods he learned in the Agency. Nigel Goodman later disappeared. And now Nigel Goodman was threatening to take revenge on Alfred.

Alfred was brought out of his thoughts as he solved the coded message.

"There is a hidden submarine base on the island."

"We've suspected that Nigel Goodman fled to this island, but there hasn't been any proof until now. Occasionally, tours would be taken of the island, but not often. Some of those tours had a purpose, to discover Nigel Goodman's hidden base. We discovered it last year, but he wasn't on the island for us to take him. The base has a protected area due to the nesting grounds of the sea turtles. Very few people are allowed in those areas. There is an old fort, but no activity has been seen there, unless there is more to that fort than what is on the surface. We did not have an opportunity to explore that area."

"Mr. Goodman took Master Wayne and Master Grayson by ship," Alfred stated. "Why would he do that?"

"Nigel Goodman wants to lure you there for certain. Perhaps he wants to know why you left the Agency and they may know something."

"What would Master Wayne know? Alfred questioned. "I did not share that part of my life with him." It was a partial truth. Alfred had shared part of his training only because he did not want to see a young boy grieving for his parents and turning that grief into something that would poison his soul. He was there when Bruce vowed to get the man responsible. In Alfred's ears the vow sounded like a cry for vengeance and because of that he vowed that his duty would be to remind the boy that vengeance was not the answer . . . justice was what was called for . . . justice not only for the death of his parents, but justice for all those who would come after.

"Why did you leave?" Boswell asked, bringing Alfred out of his thoughts just enough to answer truthfully.

"I had a higher duty to perform," Alfred stated. "My father died and I took his place. The family needed me. And when their little boy lost his parents to violence, I swore an oath to protect and raise him."

"Mr. Wayne? That little boy is a man. You have know obligation to him now."

Boswell's words did hold some truth, but Alfred held another greater truth.

'That little boy, Boswell became more than just a duty . . .' Alfred thought. 'He became a son to me.' And that little boy still needed him. Because that little boy inside the man was still hurting, and would continue to hurt until he found the man who killed his parents and ask him why.

Alfred did not respond to Boswell's words, but gave him a nod as if to consider them and went back to their next phase of the operation.

Continues with Part 11


	12. Part 11-Meeting of the Minds

A Butler's Duty

By

AJ

Part 11-Meeting of the Minds

Bruce was right. They didn't have much time. Only a few hours went by before the stateroom they were in, was suddenly, being swarmed by men. Four men grabbed the billionaire trying to press him against the far wall.

"BRUCE!" Dick cried out. "LET HIM GO!"

Bruce tried to fight them bringing up his arms. He managed to sock one in the jaw dropping him to the floor. Another he kicked out sending the man flying. Two more came in trapping Bruce against the wall. Dick leapt from the bed despite the fact that he was still fighting the infection and the fever. Pure adrenaline drove him to help his mentor and guardian. He tried to pull one of the men away from Bruce hitting the man in the face, but his strike was ineffective and weak. Three men grabbed Dick, one on each of his arms and the third behind his back.

"LET GO!" Dick said as he struggled against the stronger men. One of the three pulled a syringe out and jammed it into the youth's arm.

"NO!" Bruce cried out and he fought harder to get to his son, throwing two of the men across the room. He tried to rush forward but was struck from behind. Bruce collapsed onto the floor.

"I told you I can take him any time I want," a figure walked in and stood at Bruce's head. "Tie Mr. Wayne up and bring both of them. We will be docking within the hour."

Nigel Goodman smiled to himself. It was fortunate that the youth found the very room he wanted them to be in. Of course it didn't hurt that this particular room was the only one that wasn't locked. Of all the staterooms this one was not only bugged, but it held a hidden camera. Goodman had instructed his men to keep hidden, making it seem that the ship was sparsely run. If there had been more of his men present the youth and Wayne would not have attempted to find each other so quickly.

Nigel Goodman wasn't happy with the sadistic boiler room foreman. He replaced the former because the other was asking too many questions about the youth's guardian. He didn't want word getting to Bruce Wayne that Dick Grayson was asking for him. Instead he replaced the man with a foreman less likely to cooperate with the youth. He was told to keep the youth occupied, not beat him within an inch of his life. The boy was running a temperature and his back was crisscrossed with welts. He would have to deal with the man later.

Nigel watched as Wayne found the youth and immediately took care of his needs, providing him with not only the means to take care of the boy's wounds, but personally carrying him to what he believed was a place of safety after his threat. What Wayne didn't know was how extensive was the surveillance on the ship. He seemed to be aware of the cameras in the hall, but not much else, which worked in Nigel Goodman's favor. The fact that they wanted to contact Alfred Pennyworth alias Agent Penn made him very suspicious. Did they know about Pennyworth's past?

'Well, I shall see what it is they know. Then again, it may not matter. The youth may be the obvious choice to keep, but Mr. Wayne may know more than he lets on. He has known Pennyworth longer. Too bad, the boy is quite handsome. He might have fetched quite a price on the black market, but I must make him an example if I intend to get what I want out of Wayne. Though it pains me to do it, the kid has to go. Perhaps Mr. Wayne will be more cooperative.'

Nigel still did not understand how Alfred Pennyworth was able to defeat him. He was an expert at throwing knives and he also had a photographic memory, one of the reasons why he was often chosen to gather information for the agency. Pennyworth wasn't a killer. He wouldn't do what was needed to take out the enemy.

Nigel remembered his last mission. Evidence had been discovered that a prominent British family was targeted for assassination, but they didn't know which family it would be. Pennyworth was sent in to get that information. There were two families that were targeted. Lord Sheldrake, the Earl of Wordenshire. They had a son who was only three. And Lord Hutchenson, the Earl of Windom. False information was planted indicating that target was Lord Hutchenson for his political views. Sheldrake wasn't even considered a threat. His views were known, but when it came to foreign affairs, he usually followed his fellow colleagues when it came to recommendations. Sheldrake rarely rocked the boat, at least on the surface. If there was a threat, it didn't seem consequential or even viable. Lord Hutchenson was the more vocal of the two and to Goodman, he was the most likely choice.

Nigel had argued with Alfred about the validity of the information, believing that Hutchinson was the true target while Alfred believed it was Sheldrake though there was little evidence that stated such.

"It is a blind," Alfred stated. "The assassin wishes you to believe that Hutchinson is the target."

"Hutchinson IS the target!" Nigel stated. "His political views have angered a great number of people. Someone wants his head. I'm going after the assassin whether you are with me or not."

When Nigel reached the Hutchinson's estate, there was no assassin waiting. Alfred's instincts had been proven right. By the time they discovered the truth Lord Sheldrake and his lady were dead and the assassin had escaped leaving their young son without his parents. Nigel remembered the look in Alfred's eyes as he told him that Nigel would have to turn himself in for reprimand. They were cold and yet he could not put his finger on what Alfred was hiding. He felt that the man was laughing at him in some way, but Alfred had not uttered even a chuckle. Something inside Nigel snapped and he blamed Alfred for his downfall, accusing him of wanting the glory for himself, rather than take responsibility for leaving a boy devoid of his parents.

"If you will not go peacefully, then I must take you there myself," Alfred had stated.

"You'll never defeat me, Agent Penn," Nigel taunted. "It was your fault that Sheldrake and his lady died."

"You let the assassin escape. You went to the Hutchenson first and wasted time. The information was a blind."

"You read it wrong," Nigel stated. "The assassin used them as a screen for his real target."

"I did not," Alfred stated. "I shall take responsibility of my part in acquiring the information, but you must take responsibility for allowing the assassin to commit the murders."

"It's not my fault!" Nigel screamed. "I didn't have a clear shot."

"You allowed the assassin to escape. You could have wounded him before he killed," Alfred stated. "The assassin then could have been apprehended. You must come in and face what you have done."

"And be demoted?" Nigel scoffed. "Sorry old bean, but this agent isn't through."

Nigel remembered trying to outwit Agent Penn, but something flashed past him. It was one of Agent Penn's small knives, one not lethal by a long shot.

"You missed," Nigel grinned.

"Hardly," Alfred stated.

Nigel discovered that Pennyworth had thrown a second knife that had lodged in his shoulder and the next thing he knew Agent Penn was standing over him. Nigel kicked out knocking Pennyworth off his feet. To escape, Nigel rolled down an embankment and into the raging waters of the Thames and was dragged down stream. Nigel had escaped, but he was badly beaten in the current and for a time he didn't remember who he was or where he came from. It took him months to recover and when he did remember, his career as an agent of MI6 had ended. He was declared missing or dead and the last that he heard of Agent Pennyworth was that he left the agency. It took many years and thousands of pound sterling to rebuild his life and to search for the man responsible for taking his illustrious career from him.

'And now Agent Penn, you and I will have a score to settle, once I find out what your employer knows.'

/

Bruce Wayne woke slowly and became aware that he was no longer on the ship. His second awareness told him that he was tied with his arms out stretched and his legs spread eagle up against a wall, and he was being watched. He could also sense that what he was wearing was not the clothing that he wore on the ship, but his mind was more focused on where he was and finally meeting the man who had kidnapped he and Dick.

"You don't need to play possum. I know you are awake."

"My host on the ship," Bruce said recognizing the voice. "Where's Dick? Where's my son?"

"Let me introduce myself, Nigel Goodman," the man stated in a clipped British accent. "Once again, you are in no position to ask questions. And for now he's safe," Nigel Goodman moved out of the shadows becoming visible to the man against the wall. "Now I have some questions for you. Why would an agent of her Majesty's Service become a servant of a philanthropist and playboy?"

"Maybe I made him an offer he couldn't refuse," Bruce stated.

Nigel Goodman rushed up and slapped Bruce across the face. "Typical American arrogance. You know, for a playboy, you have a very interesting body. I didn't think a playboy would have so many bullet wounds."

Bruce's lips pursed realizing that the man had been spying on him even in the staterooms he had occupied. Instead he tried to confuse the man. "Occupational hazard for being a target."

"A target? You a philanthropist playboy?"

"I'm also a businessman," Bruce stated. "You'd be surprised. Why do you want Alfred?"

"Like you said. You'd be surprised," the man drew closer. "I don't know what Alfred Pennyworth sees in you or why he left the agency. Come to think of it, none of that really matters. What really matters is he values you, both of you."

"Why are you so bent on destroying a good man?" Bruce asked.

"Because he destroyed me." Nigel Goodman stated. "I have business to attend to."

"Wait," Bruce shouted. "Where's Dick? Where's my son?"

"Oh don't worry, he's being taken care of as we speak."

A cold chill ran through Bruce as if someone stepped on his grave.

Continues with Part 12

A/N: Sheldrake is a reference to Knight and Squire. Percy Sheldrake became the Knight, the Batman of Great Britain. His son, Cyril would become Squire. They were admires of the original Dynamic Duo. Later Cyril would take up his father's mantle and become the Knight while Beryl Hutchinson would become the Squire. Knight and Squire were first seen in Batman and Robin comic #62 in 1951 in the story _The Batman of England_


	13. Part 12-Alfred Reflects

A Butler's Duty

By

AJ

Part 12-Alfred Reflects

"We're coming up on the island, Sir."

"Raise periscope. Let's see what we're dealing with, shall we?" Agent Boswell stated.

The young man did as he was told. Agent Boswell checked the scope. Along a cliff he saw someone struggling against two or three men. Two other men followed and watched. It was a boy about 10 years of age. It was hard to tell at that distance. The boy had a determined look on his face as he tried to fight back. Agent Boswell watched as the kid actually connected with one of his fists and sent one of the men flying off the cliff and into the water. He had not seen a child at that age fight with such veracity. All too soon the kid was being swarmed by the four remaining men and chained against the cliff close to the waterline.

'My God! The blighters are going to drown the young lad,' Boswell turned to his second. "Get Pennyworth."

/

Alfred Pennyworth did not have much to do once they entered the small submarine. It was up to this special crew, hand picked by Boswell to get him to the island. Alfred picked two members of the crew, just in case. If he failed in his mission, they were required to retrieve Master Bruce and Master Richard along with his body and return them home. Though he set the contingency plan in place, he did not want to dwell on that possibility. Instead he took the time to reflect and remember his first years at the Manor when Bruce was a child, long before that fate-filled night that changed the son of Thomas and Martha Wayne forever.

Alfred remembered and that was both tragic and hopeful at the same time. He remembered that Bruce Wayne had been a precocious child, filled with active energy, playful joy, a high level of intelligence, and love for his family. He noticed that Bruce had a special bond with his father, because it was Thomas Wayne who brought his own son into this world. Bruce also had a special love for his mother. They shared an interest in wanting to do good in the world by helping others. And when Alfred came to the Manor replacing his father as butler, he was surprised at how quickly he had been accepted into their confidence. Even though Alfred was younger than Mr. Thomas Wayne by four years, his appearance and a small mustache growing above his lip made him look much older than what he was, and that put him in the rare position of acting as a pseudo parent to the youngest of the Wayne clan.

"I'm leaving him in your capable hands," Thomas said the first week that Alfred had been at the Manor.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Alfred questioned.

"Martha and I will be going out for the evening. Just think about what I might do if he gets into trouble."

"Uhm, I have not dealt with children before, Sir. Would it not be best to call upon a nanny or . . ."

"Babysitter?" Thomas finished Alfred's last word. "Every babysitter we've tried he's managed to . . . let's just say, he needs someone who can engage him in activities and even in conversation."

"The babysitters weren't able to do that?"

"They would treat him too much like a normal child and Bruce . . . he's very advanced for his age."

"I see," Alfred responded. "I shall do my best. I do have one question, Sir."

"What is it . . . Alfred," Thomas asked.

"My father, how did he treat the boy?"

Thomas gave Alfred a slight smile. "Bruce loved Jarvis like a grandfather. And your father treated him like a grandson. I lost my father when I was fifteen and it was your father who encouraged me to go on to medical school. He became a second father to me . . . And I find that I want that for my son as well. Your father was more than just a butler to us. He was part of this family. And I am glad you're here Alfred, because we need that. Our family isn't complete without a Pennyworth to help in raising our son and any other children that might come along."

"Then I shall do my very best and try to be in accord with what it is you wish for your son."

Alfred went up to check on the son of Thomas and Martha Wayne. He wasn't sure if he believed Mr. Wayne that his son was advanced as he stated. Most fathers want their sons to be more. He would soon find out that Mr. Thomas was correct in his assessment of his son. Alfred walked down the hall and entered the room on the right hand side next to the Master suite. The boy was sitting at a desk hunched over with a deep look of concentration on his face. There were several books open and several small tools littered the desk. He was fiddling with something that lay in front of him that Alfred could not see. It looked like a watch of some sort.

"If I add this and place these wires here, just like last time," the boy muttered to himself.

"Time for bed, Master Bruce," Alfred said.

"I'm almost through Alfred," Bruce said.

'Odd, I should have at least startled the boy, but he knew I was there,' Alfred stated his brow knitting.

Bruce gave a hint of a smile. "I saw you in the reflection of my lamp," the boy said.

"Quite observant," Alfred replied. He was surprised once more when the boy tossed him a second watch that was resting on the desk.

"Here, help me test them," Bruce said, as he ran out of the room. "I'll hide and you try to find me."

"But . . ."

"Just turn it on. We can talk to each other and all you need to do is follow the beeps. They should get closer together when you get close to where I'll be hiding."

"Master Bruce . . ."

The boy had dashed down the hall quicker than Alfred expected. He did as the young master instructed, realizing if he was going to get any headway with the boy he had to do as he said. He did not expect the watch to work, but when he turned it on, young Bruce Wayne's voice and the faint sound of beeping could be heard.

"Come find me, Alfred," Bruce said.

"Very well," Alfred said. 'We shall see who shall find who.'

The boy led Alfred on a merry chase, but eventually the butler caught up with his quarry. He tried to anticipate the boy's moves and within the hour, he was looking up at the boy as he hung from the chandelier in the foyer.

"Your parents will not be happy if they find you there," Alfred wondered how he got up there in the first place.

"You found me!" The boy smiled broadly. "Did I lead you on a merry chase?"

"You did indeed young sir," Alfred replied.

"Can we do it again?" Bruce asked as he nimbly jumped down to the floor.

"Not tonight," Alfred said.

"Awe." The boy pouted.

"You can, however tell me how you created such an ingenious gadget and why."

"I created it for my Dad so I can keep track of him when he goes to the hospital to care for his patients. It will let me know when he's done and when he comes home so I can meet him at the door."

'Mr. Wayne was right. His son is very advanced. He may need someone to guide that intellect for good,' Alfred thought. It had been an eye opening experience. Alfred developed a deep abiding love for the boy like no other. He watched Bruce grow and could see that he was a very creative and inventive child. He later discovered that young Master Bruce had a photographic memory. No ordinary school would do for the boy. And being advanced for his age, Bruce at six years old, he was enrolled in the third grade level, then changed to the fifth grade level mid year. Alfred learned that a child with a photographic memory was easily bored and needed to be challenged. When it came to the death of his parents, Alfred could see that it changed the young Master. It came as shock though when Alfred had been named Bruce Wayne's guardian instead of his Uncle George.

"The will stipulates that the butler, Alfred Pennyworth is the legal guardian of Bruce Wayne," the lawyer stated.

"But I'm his uncle, Thomas Wayne was my brother," George Wayne stated.

"I've gone over the papers thoroughly. They are all in order."

George Wayne did not have any children of his own and he wasn't married. "But I'm family."

"Yes, that is true. Unless you wish to contest the will there is nothing we can do."

"Please, Sir," Alfred stated. "Mr. Wayne is Master Bruce's Uncle. I would not wish him to be deprived of his nephew. May I suggest we share in the guardianship."

It was a more mutual arrangement. Though Alfred took care of the lion share of Bruce's needs, George Wayne would check on his nephew from time to time. Bruce's Uncle George took care of Wayne Enterprise until Bruce was old enough to take over for himself. Uncle George turned out to be a shrewd businessman, expanding on the Wayne wealth at an alarming rate.

Bruce learned a lot from his Uncle George even though he became more studious and changed his focus of learning. Bruce's mind, however, was never far from his parent's murder. Alfred recalled how Bruce studied as if he had other plans for his life, getting through school as swiftly as possible. Bruce would graduate at age 13, an achievement that was unheard of in his day. Alfred watched Bruce go on to college soon after concentrating his studies on criminology and law as well as training his body to its highest and fullest potential. At 17 Bruce would leave home and not return for another five years. While his charge was gone, Alfred spent the time in study himself. He continued to train and continued his education in the medical field, having discovered while he was in her Majesty's Army that he had a knack for it. With the way Master Bruce was behaving, it seemed to Alfred that his charge was planning on pursuing something dangerous and he wanted to be prepared when Bruce did eventually become the man that he was today.

When he finished his reminiscing about Master Bruce, his thoughts turned toward his younger charge, Richard Grayson. He was a child of also immense energy, never being able to sit still for very long. And yet he also was proving to be just as intelligent as Master Bruce. Though he did not have the level of the photographic memory of his guardian, Alfred observed how young Master Richard could bring out the best in others. When Master Bruce brought the boy into their lives, he did not expect him to have such a profound effect on both of them. Though Richard could bring out a light heartedness at times in Master Bruce and even in himself, there was also a serious side to the boy that reminded Alfred of Bruce when he was younger. They fit so well it was hard to believe that they were not related by blood, and yet, there was something about Richard Grayson that reminded him of someone else, someone in the Wayne family Alfred had seen only once, though he could not put his finger on where. As Alfred thought about his younger charge, he was brought out of his revere as someone knocked on the door of his cabin.

"Agent Penn. Agent Boswell needs you on the bridge."

"On my way, Sir."

Continues with Part 13

**A/N: I wanted to give the impression that Alfred is actually younger than he looks and the fact that Bruce is a genius, even at the age of five. He would have to be very advanced at a young age and very inventive to create the things he will later create as Batman. We don't hear much of Bruce's childhood. Plus as he starts to think about Dick, he's interrupted. Note the tie-in to My Father is Who? This could be the beginning of that tale and the stories that follow after.**


	14. Part 13-Holy Cliff Hanger

A Butler's Duty

By

AJ

Part 13-Holy Cliff Hanger

Dick sensed he was being carried over someone's shoulder. The sedative they gave him was wearing off. He started to struggled when he was pulled off the man's shoulder and dragged between two men. His strength just wasn't there. He had to get loose somehow and find Bruce, but it didn't look like this time they might succeed in getting out of this predicament. His head just wasn't clear enough to think.

"Take him to the cliff," a voice he didn't recognize sounding much like Alfred's said. "Chain him down by the water."

Chain? Water? Where were they taking him? Once again, someone lifted him up and threw him across a shoulder, causing his stomach to ache. The man then lowered him onto a seat in some kind of vehicle then tied his hands and feet.

'I don't have the strength to move anyway," Dick thought. 'Got to clear my head.'

As the vehicle drove along the dirt tracks, hitting what seemed like every bump, Dick's head started to clear after fifteen minutes went by. He opened his eyes and saw jungle over head. 'We are on an island. Maybe I can surprise them.'

Dick feigned being asleep until they reached an area where there was a rocky cliff leading down to the water. Two men pulled him from the vehicle and Dick started to struggle. They followed roughly carved steps into the cliff face down to the edge of the water. Dick continued to struggle, becoming more panicky as he realized what it was they were going to do with him. Dick waited until they cut his bonds. As soon as they tried to force him to sit him down, Dick swung out with his arms and caught one of the men by surprise. The man fell into the water. Three more men swarmed in and grabbed Dick by each of his arms, pressing him down.

"Let me go!" Dick cried, tears streaming down his face. Someone pressed a knee into his solar plexus making it hard to breath. They placed shackles on his wrists. They were far enough apart where he could barely sit up. Once chained, they left him alone on the cliff and the rising of the tide.

'No, Bruce . . .I . . . I'll never see him again! I . . . I . . .No!'

"NO!" Dick screamed, but no one heard him.

Dick wasn't aware though he was being watched.

/

Alfred came to the bridge wondering why Agent Boswell was requesting his presence.

"Take a look in the periscope," Boswell instructed.

Alfred did as his friend requested and nearly blanched at what he saw. 'Master Richard!' He took a few more minutes to check for any guards and found that the youth had been left alone, chained to the cliff face and a rising tide. 'I must get to him at once.' He turned toward Boswell and asked. "Is there a means to exit the craft while still submerged?"

"There's a small diver's chamber," Boswell replied. ""But we haven't had need of it. And the chamber requires that it be filled with water before you exit."

"Is there an underwater propulsion unit?"

"Yes, but it is designed for only one person."

Alfred turned on his heals and swiftly moved back to his cabin and pulled out the duffle bag he brought aboard. Though he wore the uniform while in flight to get used to the weight of it, he chose to keep the uniform secret until now. Alfred changed into the uniform that Bruce had designed for him. It was light in weight yet strong. It had a layer of insulation from the cold as well as a layer of kevlar to protect him from bullets and even knife wounds. After putting on the shirt and pants, Alfred added the forearm and calf gantlets. He left the boots off. They could weigh him down in the water. The special gantlets around his calves as well as his forearms would insure he had enough of his special weapons so he did not go unarmed. Before placing the special cowl on his head, Alfred added the utility belt. He checked its contents and found the special cutting torch as well as two small breathing apparatus. They would aid him in rescuing Dick from the cliff. Just as Alfred put the cowl on his head and dropped the special lenses in place, Agent Percy Boswell entered Alfred's cabin.

"What on earth?"

Alfred turned around to face his old friend.

"You mean to tell me that you're . . ."

"No, I am not, but my employer knows him quite well . . . And he has asked for my assistance on occasion."

"But what is . . . "

" . . . All of this?" Alfred indicated, finishing his friend's question. "Some special equipment designed for my use and to aid me in rescuing my employer and his ward. I have not forgotten my training." Alfred stated. "In fact, I continue to train . . . just in case I need to defend myself and my employer and his son from harm. After all, a butler's duty is to protect those in his charge."

'Butler?' Agent Boswell's eyebrows rose, surprised. 'You became a butler?' Though he did not voice the question. Boswell didn't question him further. There was as much Alfred didn't say as much as what he did during the course of their conversation. He was beginning to realize there was more to Alfred Pennyworth than what there appeared to be. 'He is keeping something secret, which he dare not divulge. He hasn't a right to. And if I were to hazard a guess, it would be best that I keep that information to myself.' Boswell chose to change the subject at that moment to dispel any tension between them and to ensure if he truly knew the truth that it was safe with him. "Follow me. I'll take you to the chamber."

Alfred followed his old friend to the small diver's chamber near the back of the sub.

"I don't know how much time you have. The tide is starting to rise."

Alfred spied the underwater propulsion unit as well as the wench attached to a length of chain wound around a large spool. Alfred removed the wench and attached the chain to the propulsion unit. He didn't know if it would be enough length, but he had to try for Master Richard's sake.

"What are you planning on doing with that?"

"I intend to retrieve the boy," Alfred said. "Watch for my signal. Pull us in when we're ready."

"Alfred, that's too dangerous," Boswell argued, realizing what Alfred was telling him. "He might drown. He won't be able to hold his breath at that distance. The water could rush through his lungs . . ."

Alfred walked over and gave his friend a pat on the arm. "Don't concern yourself, old bean. I have it taken care of. Fill the tank. I must get to him now."

Alfred moved over to the edge of the tank. He placed the underwater propulsion unit beside him the dropped into the water. As the tank filled and the hatch below opened Alfred grabbed the propulsion unit and dove. He propelled himself down until he was sure he was clear of the sub. He moved away from the sub then looked back. He could see that the small sub was just six feet below the surface and the periscope's length poking out. The periscope faced toward land, which gave him time to orient his location. Once Alfred was heading in the right direction he turned on the propulsion unit and sped through the water cleaving it like a knife.

Alfred kept close to the surface, just below the water line and just so he would not cause a wave or draw attention of those who might be watching. He lifted his head once to check his direction to be certain he was still on target. A scowl worthy of Batman appeared on his face when he observed Master Richard's predicament. The boy had been chained in such a way as to make it impossible for him to keep his head above water. The tide was moving in and the water was at the boy's chest. Alfred could see the boy struggling, but it would not be enough, if Alfred did not get there in time.

Putting on another burst of speed, Alfred reached the boy just as the water not only crept up further, but small waves threatened to swamp him entirely.

Alfred stopped the underwater propulsion unit and anchored it to a nearby branch hanging over the waterline. Coming up out of the water and on the cliff shelf where his younger charge was anchored, Alfred got his attention. "Master Richard!"

"A-A-Al-fred?" Dick exclaimed as he tried to keep from swallowing seawater. "Is . . . is that . . . you?"

"Indeed it is, Master Richard. Here allow me." Alfred pulled from his utility belt the breathing apparatus and placed it in Dick Grayson's mouth. "Now to get you free from these chains." Alfred pulled out the portable laser torch, one that Batman had developed to cut through steel. It made short work of the chains and just as swiftly Dick was wrapping his arms around the butler.

Through the breathing apparatus, Dick asked, "Where's Bruce? Have you seen him?"

"I have not. I thought it prudent to rescue you first. Grab hold, Master Richard," Alfred led Dick to the underwater propulsion unit. "Hang on. It will take us back to the submarine."

"Submarine?"

Before Alfred could explain both were suddenly propelled through the water back in the direction Alfred had come. 'They must have kept watch through the periscope.'

It wasn't long before both were being pulled aboard.

"Well Agent Penn, looks like you succeeded in one of your rescue missions," Agent Boswell said.

"Agent Penn?" Dick gave a questioning look toward Alfred, his eyebrow rising.

"Master Richard. I like you to meet an old friend, Agent Percy Boswell. Percy, this is Master Richard Grayson, Bruce Wayne's ward."

"Nice to meet you . . ." Dick extended his hand. It was then that Alfred noticed that all Dick was wearing was a pair of pajama bottoms. Plus, he could not help cringing at the condition of his younger charge's back.

"Master Richard, what happened to your back?"

"Long story," Dick stated. "Umm . . . Can I get dry. I'm suddenly feeling cold."

"Of course. I'll have one of my men take you to a cabin where you can change into some dry clothes."

"Alfred, what about Bruce?"

"Do not fret, Master Richard. We'll see to it that he is rescued."

Dick gave Alfred a nod and as he started to walk, his knees buckled. Strong arms picked him up and cradled him. Despite him being in the water, Alfred could feel that Dick's body was warmer than normal. 'The poor lad has been tortured somehow.'

Alfred," Dick whispered. "The suit you're wearing . . . Did Bruce . . ."

"Yes, Master Richard, for just such an emergency. Now go to sleep. I will do my best to retrieve Master Bruce. Then we shall go home."

As Alfred entered the cabin, he lay Dick down on the cot so he was lying on his side. The welts on his charge's back looked red and irritated. 'From the saltwater no doubt.'

"Once I return with Master Bruce, I shall take care of your wounds," Alfred stated, but Dick hadn't heard him. He was fast asleep. "Pleasant dreams my boy. I just hope I don't find Master Bruce in the same predicament let alone the same condition. Nigel Goodman will have a lot to answer for."

Continues with Part 14


	15. Part 14-One The Doorstep

A Butler's Duty

By

AJ

Part 14-On The Doorstep

After placing Master Richard in a cabin, Alfred went to see his old friend Agent Percy Boswell.

"How is the lad?" Agent Boswell asked.

"Exhausted. He fell asleep." Alfred replied.

"I cannot believe they would do something like that to a ten year old boy."

"Actually, Richard is 13," Alfred stated.

"He looks younger than that."

"He has not reached his full height," Alfred explained. "His parents were aerialists. I never met them, but Master Bruce could tell you more."

"How did the son of aerialists end up with a blighter like Bruce Wayne?" one of the crew asked.

"You have heard of Mr. Wayne?" Alfred asked.

Boswell cleared his throat. "Let's just say that some stories do reach us from the colonies. You were going to tell me about . . . what was the lad's name . . . Richard . . ."

"Grayson," Alfred added.

"Wait, not of the Flying Graysons," Agent Boswell stated, his eyes growing wide. "I saw them six years ago. You mean to tell me that young lad is the same Flying Grayson I saw perform a quadruple flip? What happened to his family . . . his parents?"

Alfred lowered his head and placed a hand on his pursed lips. "Master Richard witnessed the death of parents. Master Wayne was also at the circus that night. He understood what it meant to lose those he loved to violence. He offered his home to the boy."

"You said they died from violence. How? It seems to me that they lost their lives to an unusual accident."

"It was no accident," Alfred explained. "If you know the habits of an aerialist, they are very careful with their equipment."

"Sabotage?" Boswell asked. "Oh the poor lad. I cannot imagine witnessing such a horrid event."

"That is why Master Richard cannot lose another parent so soon. I must rescue Master Bruce and stop Nigel Goodman."

"Penn . . . Alfred, are you up to the task? It may be necessary to kill him."

"I never reached that level of clearance," Alfred stated. "But I will do what I must to protect Master Bruce."

Alfred gave out a sigh. He didn't like killing. That is why he never rose up further in the ranks at MI6. Reconnaissance and information gathering was his specialty. Though he was proficient at throwing knives, he used them more for self-defense rather than taking out the enemy. Many of his specialty knives were dipped in a strong fast acting sedative. The enemy may be left wounded, but they were left alive. Alfred could not bare thinking about the consequences of he were to kill with a purpose. Though there were times he carried a shotgun to protect Wayne Manor and even certain unknown entrances to the bat cave, that shotgun contained shells loaded with rock salt. It wouldn't kill, but it certainly would sting and maybe that person would think twice about invading his and Mr. Wayne's private domains.

"What is it that you wish to do?" Boswell asked.

"Move the submarine in position on the side where the fort is located," Alfred instructed as he placed both underwater breathing apparatus back into his utility belt. "I shall take the propulsion unit and enter the island from this side. Keep your periscope trained on the fort. I suspect that is where Nigel is holding Master Bruce."

"Do you wish someone to accompany you?"

"No, I must do this alone. Give me 24 hours, then send in your crew." Without another word, Boswell prepared the diver's chamber. As soon as Alfred was away, he went back and kept an eye on the cliff until he saw his friend emerge from the water. Once he saw that Alfred gained the top of the cliff, he breathed a sigh of relief. In many ways he was envious of his fellow former agent. To show such loyalty to one man was rare. He had heard about the playboy philanthropist over the years, the good that he was doing with the Wayne Foundation, and yet the man at times seemed scatter brained; at least that's how the tabloids pictured him. Wayne was also a businessman, having doubled, even tripled his family's fortune over the years. Wayne Enterprises wasn't a monopoly, but it was a powerhouse in several areas of industry.

"There is more to you Mr. Wayne than you let on. You are one lucky son of a . . . to have Alfred. Perhaps it's time I seek out someone like you and change my fortune. Can't stay at MI6 forever,' Boswell mused. Turning toward his crew, he gave the signal. "All right, let's get this bucket of bolts moving. We don't have all day you know."

/

Alfred arrived back at the cliff and let the underwater propulsion unit sink below the surface. The unit was still tethered so it could be returned to the sub. Alfred figured that Boswell would let the propulsion unit drag behind just in case it was needed. For now, Alfred needed to get to the fort and that meant acquiring the necessary transportation. He carefully climbed to the top of the cliff and made sure the coast was clear. Not far away and under the canopy of trees sat two vehicles with five men. All of them appeared to he drinking.

"Shouldn't we check on the kid? He should be floating in the surf by now."

"A few more minutes ain't going to hurt. Then we drop the kid at Wayne's feet and see the look on his face. That will take the fight out of him."

"Goodman's a genius, but I don't get why he wants some butler to deliver the ransom here."

"Does it matter? He's not planning on leaving them alive anyway. Once he's got the money, he'll kill the butler in front of Wayne and then he'll put the guy out of his misery."

"You don't think Wayne can really escape those chains? I mean if he sees the body of his kid, he could go berserk. I've heard that happening."

"Here, have another swig," Someone passed a bottle around. "Look the way I figure it, it's none of my business. The kid will be dead and Wayne being chained against the wall of that old fort, he's beyond help. Not even Batman will be able to find him. And once we get paid, we'll be able to do whatever we want."

"What makes you think we'll get a portion of that money?"

"Well, if we don't . . ."

Alfred heard enough. There was no honor among mercenaries. And it was high time he acquired that transportation. Alfred knelt down behind a boulder and pulled out a small bat-shaped throwing knife. The tips on each end of the bat were long and needle sharp. With the precision of a surgeon, Alfred threw the small bat. It hit one of the men in the back of the neck.

"I think I just been bit . . ."

Alfred followed up with three more in rapid succession, pleased that he hadn't lost his touch. The final man standing looked around trying to find the source after discovering his men had not been bitten by insects as one had exclaimed. He raised his weapon and circled the area.

"I know you're out there! Show yourself!"

Perhaps he could draw the man's fire and come at him from another direction. Though if he did, there was the chance he might get shot. He didn't have Batman's quickness or Robin's agility. Still drawing the man's fire will cause the man waste his ammunition. It was a chance he had to take after losing the element of surprise. Alfred crept around the boulder, trying to keep it between him and the remaining guard. He carefully watched the man. The guard had the gun trained on his location, but at the same time, the man was nervously looking around trying to found the 'assailant.'

Seizing on an idea, Alfred bent down and picked up a loose stone. As he came around the other side of the boulder, Alfred threw the stone hard. It struck a nearby tree. The final guard spun around to face that direction and Alfred made his move. The final guard dropped like a stone. After securing four of the five guards with zip-ties, Alfred checked one of the two vehicles. Both had keys, but one had what he was searching for, a map of the island. Before leaving, Alfred picked up each of the guards and carried them into the jungle a short distance. He pulled out a strip of cloth and gagged each of the men. When it came to the fifth man, he stripped him of his uniform then zip tied his arms and legs as well as gagging the man. He also carried the man into the jungle. With the men secure, Alfred drove one of the vehicles under the canopy of trees to hide it. Everything took less than an hour. Dawning the uniform of the guard, Alfred climbed into the remaining vehicle and checked the map. It was time to meet the lion in his den.

Continues with Part 15


	16. Part 15-Tourist Trap

A Butler's Duty

By

AJ

Part 15-Tourist Trap

Alfred checked the map against his location and discovered that the map was already marked. Dick's name was written in where the cliffs were located. Bruce's name was sprawled across where the fort was located as well. There was something about this map that was suspicious. It was as if Nigel wanted him to find it. And if that were the case, then Nigel surely had set a trap for him somewhere along the road he was expecting him to take. Perhaps the trap that Nigel had set was to set him up for double jeopardy, where he would have to choose which person to save. Nigel could not have known that Alfred would be arriving by submarine and therefore thwart part of his plans by rescuing Dick first. If only he could get word to Bruce to let him know that Dick was safe.

"Agent Penn . . ."

Alfred's headset crackled. His brow knitted together in a slight scowl. "Agent Boswell? How did you discover this frequency?"

"I . . . Took a chance," Boswell answered. "I need to let you know. There are three cruise ships docked on the southern side of the island. Two are disembarking passengers. La Tortuga Island may be considered uninhabited, but the Venezuelan Government has set up a thriving tourist trade. It would seem at least on the south side of the island, there appears to be far more development than expected. Looks like that information on the island will have to be updated after all. I don't know how Nigel Goodman could get any of his equipment on the island without detection, let alone two hostages."

"You said there were three ships docked?" Alfred asked.

"Yes."

"The third ship is smaller than the other two and looks to be much older. I am surprised it is still in service. It seems to be an old style ship ran on coal, but still a passenger liner."

"That must be the ship that brought Master Bruce and Master Richard."

"Do you want someone to commandeer it?"

"You do not have a large enough crew," Alfred pointed out.

"You worry about rescuing your employer. Let me worry about the ship."

"Very well, Bos," Alfred replied. "Do what you must to secure the ship.

"You have not called me that in a long time my friend. Perhaps when this is all over, we can meet more often than just for tea."

"Once a year perhaps?" Alfred suggested.

"Capital idea," Boswell replied, though both knew that it might not happen if they did not focus on the mission at hand.

"How many tourists have disembarked?" Alfred asked.

"It appears to be around 1300 between both ships."

"1300?" Alfred was alarmed. There wasn't any way that he could avoid running into any tourist if he were to take the main track back to the fort. "Will some of the tourists explore the fort?"

"The fort is not that large. It was designed to hold only a garrison of 500 men," Boswell explained. "There are parts that tourist are not allowed to enter. I am certain that Nigel Goodman has your Mr. Wayne sequestered. I am sure he would not want a tourist stumbling onto his hostage. It would be foolish if he was somewhere out in the open."

"I hope so, Agent Boswell," Alfred replied, but his instincts told him that Nigel would want an audience for his little drama. Nigel was not above 'tooting his own horn.' He had been arrogant in that regard. Alfred remembered another time when Nigel would gloat about whatever mission he had completed to whomever would listen to him. Alfred rethought his position. Removing the cowl and placing the guard's hat on his head, perhaps there was a way for him to survey the situation. If there was one thing he learned about being an agent and that was how to blend into a crowd. For now, he looked like any security guard. Perhaps he could use that to his advantage, the difference being was what he wore underneath. And if he could get close . . . As Bruce was often fond of saying, 'He won't know what hit him.'

/

Nigel Goodman returned dressed in 16th century Spanish military garb.

"What are you supposed to be?" Bruce asked.

"Don't you recognize the arraignment? I thought you were a student of history. I did do my homework at least on you," Nigel Goodman moved in a circle, acting as a model. "You will notice Mr. Wayne, the type of garment you are wearing."

Bruce had been aware earlier that he wasn't wearing the same clothes he wore on the ship, but his mind had been preoccupied with concern for Dick. Now that Nigel mentioned the difference in clothing. Bruce paid attention. He was wearing breaches and high boots. The shirt he was wearing looked like something a pirate would wear. It was torn in places to make it look like he had been tortured.

"Why the charade?" Bruce asked.

"The tourist season on this island has begun. I've arranged with the Venezuelan government that a live reenactment of events in the history of this island might give tourists an added thrill. I learned that they used to execute pirates in this manner. And you Mr. Wayne represent one of the most infamous pirates in Venezuelan history. For now, my men have been ordered to shoot blanks. And you Mr. Wayne will 'act' accordingly. If you try to escape or alert any tourist that this is not a reenactment, then the next time the show goes on, you shall be facing a real firing squad."

"I'll play my part," Bruce agreed. "Only if I can see Dick and I know that he's alive."

"Really Mr. Wayne, you're not going to take me at my word that the lad is being cared for . . ."

". . . I would, if I can see him . . ."

"I'm sorry Mr. Wayne that is out of the question. He's . . . well let me say . . . You have my condolences . . ."

"You bastard . . . You . . . You killed him. You never had any intention of keeping him alive."

"I told you earlier that one hostage would be sufficient . . ."

". . . I want to see his body," Bruce stated. "You'll get no cooperation from me unless I see his body."

"Very well, you may see his body. Just remember, you are my prisoner and this is the only demand that you can make. I would not want to kill you prematurely. If I were to kill you I would not be able to do my little reenactment. Killing you in front of Pennyworth . . . Now that would be a pleasure and to see the look on his face . . . "

Bruce's eyes turned to hard flint. He no longer cared whether something happened to him. The man seemed to have him over a barrel. He was bait for Alfred. And now Dick . . . The man had treated him like excess baggage. He didn't seem to understand that while Dick lived, he had one more bargaining chip. Without Dick . . .Even if Alfred were to come in time, Bruce didn't know if he wanted to live without his partner . . . his son. All he saw now was the need to avenge his son's death. And then he would join him if he could. It would hurt Alfred, but this new loss was too much. How could he even consider defending Gotham if he could not even defend the life of his son? With this new pain, Bruce had only one thought in mind.

Earlier when Goodman left him alone, Bruce started working on the chains mounted to the wall. Though the chains looked old and rusted, it was the wall that was old and crumbling. The chains were anchored deep. All he needed was one small object to help in loosening the anchors. And once loose, it wouldn't be difficult to pull them straight from the wall. Images of him holding Dick in his arms while he bathed his injured back came to him. He could still feel the warmth of his son's body pressed against his as he held him at night in a protective embrace. The ache in his heart became a burning ember that smoldered into a flame a rage. Before, all he wanted to do was escape and take Dick home, but now. Bruce had another reason to pry his chains loose. He wanted to kill Nigel Goodman with his bare hands.

Then the man was once again sweeping into his line of vision.

"Ah, the first tourists will be arriving in fifteen minutes. It's show time Mr. Wayne. Your public awaits."

Continues with Part 16


	17. Part 16-The Rescuing of Bruce Wayne

A Butler's Duty

By

AJ

Part 16-The Rescuing of Bruce Wayne

'Kill me,' Bruce thought at the end of the third performance, 'Then I can be with my son.' And yet, deep within, the part that is Batman argued with him. 'No. Dick would want you to go on living. He would want you to bring the man to justice. Besides, Alfred is out there somewhere.' But Bruce was doubtful. There had been no sign of Alfred since their arrival. And even Nigel Goodman was becoming agitated at the fact that his enemy hadn't shown up along with five of his men. Now something had happened to the rest of them aboard his ship. He had not been able to get ahold of anyone and the last performance would be starting soon.

"I don't understand it. My men were supposed to be here. They were supposed to bring the boy's body back with them and place it at Wayne's feet. It would have been part of the reenactment. No one would have been the wiser. Now I've had to do this myself. I don't know how long I can keep this charade going," Nigel muttered. "Two shows in the morning, two shows in the afternoon. Why did I talk the Venezuelan Government into this? I could have found a way to shut down the island with a large enough bribe."

"That wouldn't have done it. Venezuela has a democratic government," Bruce replied having overheard the last of the man's conversation with himself. "Bribing an official is illegal."

"Who asked you," Nigel stepped up and slapped Bruce across the face. It was just what Bruce needed to take his mind out of the temporary depression he found himself in with each passing moment. Anger rose in him like a maelstrom and he suddenly yanked on the chains that held him to the wall. He could feel the anchors loosening that much more.

Nigel suddenly jumped back then smiled. "Good, I like someone who fights back. Gives for a better show."

More people arrived for the final performance. Bruce looked up to see a familiar face in the back of the crowd. He didn't know if that person saw him or the nod he did in his direction. He was glad that Alfred had finally arrived. He felt a deep pang in his chest knowing that he would have to tell Alfred the news about Dick. It will break the butler's heart.

Bruce kept an eye on the uniformed guard with Alfred's features. Alfred was doing a very good job being inconspicuous. As the crowd dissipated, Bruce observed Alfred move along the edge as if to keep the crowd moving. He did his best not to draw attention by keeping his focus on Nigel Goodman. The man continued to pace, his focus once again on his inner monolog. Bruce signaled to Alfred where he could find a set of steps since he noticed there was another set just like it across the yard. He knew when Alfred was in place when he felt his presence above him. He briefly looked up tilting his head up to see if he could spy the person, making it looked like he was helpless and in despair. He spotted Alfred's face looking over the edge. He held something small in his hand. Dropping the object, Bruce managed to catch it just in time. It was the cylindrical laser torch, just the thing he needed to free himself from his chains.

'Good old Alfred, you came through just in time . . . At least for me.'

As Bruce worked on the chains with the laser torch Alfred moved along the rampart searching for the man responsible for kidnapping his charges. The man was his responsibility. He made a promise to bring him in the first time, but could not fulfill that promise due to Nigel Goodman escaping. This time, Alfred will make certain that Nigel Goodman won't escape a second time.

Alfred made the other side when Nigel came out from under an overhang.

"Well Mr. Wayne, it seems I may have to make another example."

"We shall see about that," Alfred called out as he removed the guard's uniform, his cowl in place and two knives in his hand.

"Agent Penn," Nigel Goodman spun around to face his adversary. "It's about time you showed up. And what do you call that getup?"

"The clothes do not matter, Sir," Alfred said. "What matters is doing my duty. Are you all right Mr. Wayne?"

"Never better, Alfred," Bruce replied, though he had to keep the ache with regarding Dick out of his voice so the butler would not know. He would have to tell him later.

"Now Mr. Goodman, we shall discuss your surrender."

"Sorry old bean, but I am not through," Nigel pulled out a specialized gun from out of the garment he was wearing and aimed it at the billionaire, bent on seeing the look on Alfred's face.

Alfred tossed one of his knives catching the gun just right. The gun was flung from Nigel Goodman's hand, and the knife along with it. Nigel Goodman wasn't totally weaponless. Nigel pulled out the cutlass from his belt. It was no stage prop. He rushed toward Bruce with the intent on killing the billionaire, but Nigel Goodman did not expect to suddenly get hit across the jaw with a right hook.

Bruce used the laser torch to free his right arm, but did not have an opportunity to free his other hand. He palmed the cylindrical object, which gave his fist the added weight to send Nigel Goodman sailing across the yard with the punch he just landed on the older man's jaw. Nigel landed a few feet away, surprised at the power in Wayne's punch. He didn't expect the man to nearly take his head off. While Goodman was shaken Bruce took advantage of the moment and used the laser torch to free his other hand.

Alfred knew he would not be able to scramble down fast enough to save Bruce so he threw two more knives to try to slow Nigel down. One stuck in the man's shirt near his shoulder, pinning Nigel Goodman to the ground. The other knife stuck in Nigel's pant leg. Just as swiftly as Alfred pinned Nigel, Bruce came in and struck the man one more time with a force that snapped the man's head back hard against the gravel-lined surface of the ground.

"That's for my son, you bastard!" Bruce growled.

Nigel lay unconscious after that. Bruce's legs were shaking and he allowed his knees to buckle and sit on the ground.

"Master Bruce, are you hurt?" Alfred removed the cowl and exposed his full face.

"Alfred . . ." While he was still kneeling, Bruce grabbed Alfred by the waist. His body shook as he cried out his anguish, believing Nigel Goodman's words. How could he tell Alfred? It would break the old man's heart as surely as it had broken his.

"Come Master Bruce. I must get you to the submarine and I need to notify the crew about Mr. Goodman."

'Submarine?' Alfred's words barely registered. 'What about Dick's . . . ' But Bruce could not voice his thoughts.

'Something is obviously wrong,' Alfred thought. 'I have not seen Master Bruce this distraught since . . . Alfred replaced the cowl on his head and pressed the communication link. "Agent Penn to Boswell. Nigel Goodman is secure."

"Boswell to Agent Penn. I shall send two men to your location. The ships have moved off shore except for the smaller vessel. We've secured that as well. Come to the docking area and we shall pick you up. Boswell out."

Alfred placed one hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Master Bruce, I need to secure our prisoner before he wakes up. You're going to have to let go of me."

Bruce didn't release Alfred for another five minutes, but then he let his arms drop. Bruce continued to stare into space as Alfred pulled out a couple of zip ties and secured Nigel Goodman's hands behind his back. He secured Nigel's feet just in case he might come to before Boswell's team would get there to secure the former agent.

With Nigel Goodman secured Alfred could think about getting his charge back to the submarine. Alfred remembered the path that the crowd had followed. Before they left the area he found the sign that announced the reenactment. Searching around he found a second sign written in several languages that stated there was no performance and placed it over the existing sign.

'We will have to speak with the Venezuelan Government so there will be no repercussions,' Alfred thought. "Come Master Bruce, it's time we went home."

Bruce allowed Alfred to lead him to the docks. He realized he should not have knocked out Nigel Goodman. He could have questioned him on where Dick had been taken. He could retrieve Dick's body and bring him home. It barely registered in his mind that Alfred had received help and that help brought him to the island. How many days had it been since they had been kidnapped, three? Four? Five? Or was it a week. He did not know. The last image he was aware of was Dick trying to get to him as Nigel Goodman's crew swarmed into their stateroom and Dick being held by three men . . . And one of them injecting something into Dick's arm. As far as he knew, that was the last time he had seen Dick alive and that image would haunt him forever. He couldn't prevent Dick from being taken and for the first time, he was thinking about hanging up his cowl.

Continues with Part 17


	18. Part 17-Reunited

A Butler's Duty

By

AJ

Part 17-Reunited

Bruce Wayne was barely aware of climbing the ladder to the submarine's deck and down the hatch to the interior. Subconsciously, he recorded every bit of information with regards to the craft. Once he and Alfred returned to Gotham he would be sure to check the submarine's maker and model. It might come in handy to have such a craft if Batman's arsenal. He also wanted to personally thank the crew with some compensation. How Alfred was able to acquire the assistance was beyond him right now. All he was aware of was his own weariness. He barely stepped off the ladder when he reached the interior when something slammed into him.

"BRUCE!"

The hug was strong and nearly cracked his ribs. It was desperate and filled with relief at the same time. And the person hugging him could not stop crying.

"I . . . I was . . . So . . . So . . . Worried."

The beloved voice that Bruce thought he would never hear from again broke through the fog of his confusion and realization slowly dawned, and Bruce clung tightly to the overly warm, shaking figure that held him. Silent tears fell on the dark head of the teen as he realized that Alfred must have rescued the boy first. He turned toward the butler with wide eyes of wonder. Bruce realized that Alfred was far more than just a silent partner of their secret team. With this mission to rescue them, Alfred proved he was more than capable of being out in the field. For now, Bruce reveled in the miracle that his butler had provided. He had done the impossible worthy of Batman. He had rescued them. Not only that, Alfred saved Bruce's sanity without even realizing it. For without Dick . . . Bruce didn't even want to voice it.

Bruce pulled his son away from his chest. His shirt was wet from Dick's tears. "Let me look at you," Bruce said softly, though there was a roughness there that smacked of deep emotion. He brushed his hands along the side of the teen's face and their eyes met, the connection between them sparking a wonder that even Bruce was awed. He wasn't dead. He was alive and here in his arms and they had all the time in the world, but he had to know for himself what happened.

"Dick . . . I . . . Nigel Goodman . . . He told me . . . He told me you . . ." He couldn't voice the last two words.

"Alfred rescued me," Dick smiled. "I thought I was a goner, too until . . ."

"Master Bruce, Master Richard, why don't we go to a cabin where you both can catch up and I can change."

"Oh, sure Alfred," Dick said, his energy starting to wane. "I can show Bruce my cabin," he stated and started to move toward a corridor toward the front of the sub. 'Besides, I think I'm going to need to lie down. I'm starting to feel dizzy.'

"That would be acceptable, Master Richard. I shall then confer with our other rescuers."

"Come on Bruce . . ." Dick pulled on his guardian's hand and started to lead him down a corridor.

Bruce stopped for a moment and looked around. "Alfred . . . What . . . How?"

"I shall explain later and make the required introductions. For now, I must assist my friends in securing Mr. Goodman in the brig. When that is completed, we shall be on our way home."

"Home." Never was there ever a sweeter word.

Alfred stepped a little closer. "Oh, Sir. After you get settled, you need to call Commissioner Gordon. He is waiting to hear from a certain . . . shall we say . . . mutual friend."

Dick overheard Alfred's comment, "Holy mascaraed, you mean . . ."

"Precisely, Master Richard.

"I don't know how you pulled this off Alfred . . ."

"If it weren't for those emergency procedures you put in place, Sir . . . I shutter to think what might have happened."

"Agent Penn," Agent Percy Boswell moved to his old friend and clapped him on the back.

"Agent Penn?" Bruce gave his butler a curious look.

"Forgive me, Sir," Alfred turned toward his old friend. "Master Wayne this is Percy Boswell. I knew him from my early days in her Majesty's Service. It is he that I called upon for assistance."

"Then we owe you our thanks as well as our gratitude."

"That's not necessary, Mr. Wayne. It was a pleasure getting to work with this old friend and colleague once again. He's a good man."

"I can certainly attest to that," Bruce agreed. He was also aware that Dick was trying to stay upright. He still felt overly warm, which meant that the fever hadn't totally gone away. "Dick let's take a look at your back again and let them finish up here."

"I just wanted to let you know that Goodman is secured in the brig. There is no need for you to assist in that. We brought him in through the diver's chamber. He'll be a little soaking wet, but he won't be doing any more harm. We'll be able to get underway very soon."

"Percy is there a secure line that Master Wayne may use?"

"Yes . . . We need to inform Commissioner Gordon in Gotham City that everyone is safe."

"I can have a special line fed to your cabin," Agent Boswell stated.

"That will be perfect."

Alfred, Bruce, and Dick moved down the corridor to the cabin that the teen occupied. Dick moved over to the cot and may down immediately.

"Master Bruce, you will find a change of clothes and there is a shower if you wish to freshen up. I shall return momentarily with a first aid kit and tend to any wounds that both of you sustained."

"I think I'm good, Alfred," Brice replied.

"Your wrists Master Bruce," Alfred point out. "I do not want to see those marks become infected."

Bruce looked at his wrists and realized they had been rubbed raw from the shackles. "Perhaps you're right. That might hamper my movements."

As Alfred left Agent Boswell entered with a special receiver. "Just pick this up and tell the number you wish to dial, Mr. Wayne. It will patch you through. It's a secure line so your conversation will be private."

"Thank you Mr. . ."

"Agent Boswell of her Majesties Secret Service."

Thank you Agent Boswell," Bruce said as the man left. "Alfred could you stand outside and make sure no one stops to listen."

"You may want this, Master Bruce," Alfred pulled from his utility belt a small disk and handed to Bruce. The disk could be placed over the mouthpiece of the handset. He also pulled out another small scanner. "I know you do not trust Agent Boswell since you do not know him. I have known Percy Boswell since before you were born, Master Bruce, but it's always wise to be cautious." Alfred handed Bruce the second device then stepped from the cabin and shut the door.

"Alfred trusts him?" Bruce asked as he looked over at Dick who was lying on one of two cots. "Dick?" Bruce moved over to where his son lay and brushed his hand along his hair and his forehead. Dick's temperature was back up and there were tears still streaming down his face.

'He must have been running on pure adrenaline,' Bruce thought. "Tell me," Bruce said gently.

"I . . . I . . . didn't think I . . . would see you . . . again. They tried . . . to . . . drown me."

Bruce sat on the cot and gently brought his son's head into his lap. Dick wrapped his arms around his father's waist, clinging to him as if Bruce would disappear. He continued to sob as Bruce held him.

"Hush," Bruce said. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I want to . . . go home, Dad," Dick said, his voice muffled against Bruce's stomach.

"We are, son," Bruce confirmed. " We are."

They sat like that for fifteen minutes, Bruce gently rocking Dick until the teen fell into a fitful sleep. He carefully repositioned Dick back on the cot and made the call to Commissioner Gordon only placing the disk on the mouthpiece to ensure everything was secure.

"Commissioner, Batman here. I have Mr. Wayne and his ward Richard Grayson. Mr. Wayne has some minor injuries. Richard Grayson . . . he was more mistreated. They are safe." Bruce didn't mention Dick was in worse shape than he let on. He knew there was the possibility of nightmares later. "We are returning home. At this rate, I am uncertain. I will call you when we reach Gotham." Bruce ended the call then grabbed Alfred from the hall. "Alfred, Dick's going to need more than that first aid kit."

Alfred came inside and checked Dick's temperature. "He needs to be brought to the infirmary. Can you tell me how his back was wounded?"

Bruce explained what happened as he carried Dick to the infirmary. He explained how they were kidnapped and taken to the ship, how they were separated, and how Dick was mistreated below the decks. He also explained when they found each other. "He developed an infection. I think that's what we're still facing. I was able to find some antibiotics and we barely got started when within 36 hours of finding each other we were separated again. Dick's barely had time to recover."

"We'll get him well, Master Bruce."

Bruce placed Dick on the examination table. He removed the shirt that Dick was wearing to expose his back. Alfred blanched at seeing the redness and infected welts.

"We need to get those cleaned." Alfred stated.

"I took him in the shower with me," Bruce explained.

"If that helped to clean the wounds last time then do so," Alfred stated. "Then we'll put him on an IV and give him a round of antibiotics. He must be dehydrated as well."

After Bruce bathed his son's back just like he did before, Alfred hooked up the IV and began administering the necessary drugs to help his young charge. He was placed in one of the beds and covered with a sheet and blanket.

"Let me administer to your wrists, Master Bruce."

After Alfred took care of Bruce's wrists, cleaning the abrasions, applying antibiotic ointment then wrapping them with gauze, Bruce went to sit by his son and wait.

'Come on Dick. You've got to pull through. I can't lose you, now. Not when I just got you back.'

Alfred pulled up a chair and sat on the other side. Both men sat in silence and within their own thoughts.

Agent Boswell stood in the doorway observing the trio. 'I don't know what's instilled the kind of loyalty you have shown for these two Alfred Pennyworth, but I dare say, if you hadn't found and rescued them alive, you would have earned that double O ranking. And heaven help the next person you would meet.'

Continues with Part 18


	19. Epilogue - Home

A Butler's Duty

By

AJ

Part 18-Home

Dick Grayson woke up in his bedroom with a warm blanket covering him and the sun streaming into his window. He turned over to see Bruce sitting at his desk working on some files.

"Bruce?" Dick's voice came out hoarse and he started to cough.

"Easy Chum," Bruce came over and placed a hand on his forehead then placed a thermometer into Dick's mouth. "Don't talk for at least three minutes."

The look on Dick's face though asked the very question that he wanted to voice, but couldn't because of the thermometer.

"Yes, we're home. We arrived last night. You were still out of it so I carried you up the stairs. The sub got us here under 12 hours. They put on a lot of steam just for us." Bruce pulled out the thermometer and checked the reading. "101.4, much better than it was 10 hours ago. Your temperature soared to 104. Alfred almost had a heart attack."

"Don't believe him Master Richard. Master Bruce would not leave your side until he knew you would be well. I have brought another antibiotic and some water, plus a fever reducer. You are to stay in bed until that temperature is down to normal."

"Why does my chest feel heavy?" Dick asked in between taking the medication and coughing. "And my throat feels sore. I can't talk."

"You developed a case of bronchitis as well as laryngitis due to the sea water you ingested," Alfred replied. "Dr. Leslie has been by and has prescribed some medication to help with both the infection and the bronchitis."

"What . . . about . . . school? ***cough . . . cough***, Dick questioned. "My homework . . ."

". . . is being sent over. Commissioner Gordon personally informed the school when you and Master Bruce were kidnapped. I just informed the school this morning of our return and your illness. You are not scheduled to go back to until next week."

"Bruce?" Dick's eyes questioned why his guardian was working in his room, though he was glad that Bruce was there.

"Don't talk Dick. Your voice could use the rest. I'm not going anywhere. I'm catching up on paperwork for the Wayne Foundation and for Wayne Enterprises."

Alfred turned his head for a brief moment then said, "I shall return Master Bruce."

Dick looked over at Bruce as Alfred left the room. Both wondered what was going on.

Alfred came back with another person in tow.

"It's Commissioner Gordon, Mr. Wayne," Alfred said.

"Bruce," Commissioner Gordon said with a wide smile. "It's good to have you home. When I heard that you and your ward had been kidnapped and taken out of the country I feared the worst. I'm glad that Batman was able to find and return you safely. And you Alfred, I'm glad to see that you were able to help as well. Was Batman able to get a hold of you?"

"Yes, Commissioner, he was," Alfred stated.

"Is that right Alfred, you helped Batman?" Bruce asked. "Batman didn't tell me that."

"Well, I only played a small part, but it was an honor to assist the Caped Crusader and the Boy Wonder."

***Cough, cough, cough*,** Dick started coughing though it also sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

"My apologies," Commissioner Gordon stated. "How are you feeling lad?"

"Getting . . . Better," Dick replied though his words were a little rough.

"I understand that madman tried to harm him?" Gordon directed his words to Bruce.

"Unfortunately, he did more than that," Bruce said gravely. "If it hadn't been for . . . Any way, let's not dwell on that. Batman turned the man over to the British authorities. Apparently, he had been wanted by them for a very long time."

"Well let's hope he'll be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Do you think you and Dick will have to testify?"

"If we will, the British Government can count on us," Bruce said. "For now, there's no place I'd rather be than right here, right Alfred?"

"Right, Sir," Alfred replied. "There is no place like home."

End


End file.
